The Bodyguard
by Look at moiye ploise
Summary: Hermione turned. 'Bite me, Malfoy.' 'Gladly.' Was the reply. A DracoHermione office romance with more than a few twists ...
1. The Pendantic and the Playboy

**The Bodyguard**  
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)  
  
_Hello and welcome to my fanfiction_ - **The Bodyguard** This is the story of high-ranking ministry official Hermione Granger and her hired help (the bodyguard) Draco Malfoy. If you've ever seen the real life version of this story with the same name, you'll find it painfully clear that I've never seen the film, and that this story basically only has the same name as the movie (but even I know that Hermione Granger wouldn't ever pick singing over a ministry job).  
  
**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like _Hack_ and other mentioned ones do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).  
  
**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influencal Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.  
  
(I really am sorry if some of the information here is not accurate to the books ... let's just play make-believe and think that it is for the sake of the story)  
So, without further ado ...  
  
**THE BODYGUARD  
**Chapter 1 -_ The Pedantic and The Playboy_  
Hermione Granger walked into the Ministry of Magic that morning with an extra spring in her step. To most people, work was merely a prison where the only means of survival were lunch breaks and gossiping (if you were a girl) or perving on the hotter workers (obviously if you were a guy). But to Hermione Granger, work wasn't that. To her, work was a fulfiling and valuing experience that ensured a difference to the world if enough work and hard labour was put in.  
  
Hermione pressed the up button on the elevator as she hummed a Weird Sisters tune to herself.  
  
Securing a job at the Ministry of Magic was like a dream come true - it gave Hermione a far more better chance at changing the world for the better. And, of course, the fact that she was getting paid a large sum of money for her work was irrelevant.  
The elevator door opened and Hermione stepped in, her sensible work heels clacking on the tiled floor. As she did, four pale violet paper planes zoomed into the elevator and hovered around the elevator light as Hermione pressed the number for her level (two - Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Service.  
  
Hermione's job was at the Auror Headquarters, where her best friend Harry Potter worked as well. What she basically did was assign cases to the Aurors based on their abilities, experience and their suitability range. She was the one who, on happier notes, promoted people or congratulated them on a good case result. Sadly, she was also the one who had to scold those who did poorly, or even worse, fire them. She was the one who was calling the shots.  
  
The elevator dinged and opened it's doors to level five (Department of International Magical Co-operation) and four people walked in, each greeting Hermione with a "Hello, Miss Granger!" or a "Morning, Miss Granger!". Hermione smiled in return and continued humming quietly to herself as the elevator continued to stop at all the levels until she reached her own. By this time, all other occupants were gone and Hermione was alone. She stepped out of the elevator and went for her office.  
  
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement level was a busy one - paper planes were zooming around, people were buzzing with talk and there was laughing somewhere in the background, even though work had only just started. When she entred the room, the noise quietened down a little bit, and people resumed working.  
  
Hermione was a woman of 24. When she had left Hogwarts seven years earlier, she had intended on being the Ministress of Magic. That would have worked if you ignored that fact that in order to be the Ministress, Hermione had to work for two years in an area where she had no previous experience in. Of course, none of the hard cases were assigned to her, but she did have to do the easy ones.  
  
Hermione had chosen the Department of Magical Transportation and had spent two years of her life improving the Floo network and helping people in the Apparation Test Centre. Whilst she was promised a future there as a 'rising young talent whose groundbreaking thinking has kept Floo grates unbelievably devoid of any grime', Hermione went to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and stayed there ever since. Sure, it really was crazy for her not to run for Ministress, but Hermione had always convinced herself at the end of the year that the next year would be the last. Now, she had been in the business for 5 years and was already at the head of it.  
  
As Hermione walked along the tiled path until she reached the door marked 'President of Auror Headquaters - Hermione Granger', different Aurors tipped their hats or their wigs at her, some following her because they had accomplished yet another case.  
It had taken her quite some time to get to where she was, occupation wise. Whilst some of the longer working office workers claimed that Hermione was one of the hardest working and quickest rising people on the level ever, Hermione seemed stressed that she wasn't THE hardest or THE quickest. She went from a measley little secretary in the office to become the President of the entire Headquaters, like mentioned before. This, of course, would seem a fantastic leap already and would have made most people dizzy from feeding their ego so much. But to Hermione, her rank was something that could have been accomplished in three instead, of five, years. Maybe she was just pedantic .  
  
Sitting down in her squashy arm chair and pulling it towards the table, Hermione called in the first of the people that wanted to see her.  
  
"Morning, Hermies," Hermione's secretary, and consequently one of her best friends, Tammy Harding, said as she walked in. Tammy was probably the only one in the entire office aside from Harry that was allowed to call her 'Hermies' anywhere.  
  
"Hey, Tam," Hermione smiled as she grabbed a pen and started doing some of that evil filing.  
  
"Alrighty ... Today you have Gary Tanner who has just completed his mission in Bristol, Leonie Manny who caught Pendle Oates in Oxford (I deeply suggest you promote the dear), Harry who's 'decided to waltz in because he felt like it' and Maria Gobs - she's just finished her Auror training and needs her first case." Tammy rolled off the list from her clipboard to Hermione, who was non-pulsed about all the extra filing she had to do, now that cases had been finished and there was another person joining the squad. And, of course, there was Harry - who she often referred to as her rock; the one who would keep her grounded and unable to throw her squashy arm chair or a person out of the window when she was stressed if Tammy wasn't around.  
  
"Ok, send in Gary." Hermione said as Tammy unclipped the sheet she was previously reading off of and setting it onto Hermione's desk.  
  
"In a minute!" Tammy said, drawing a chair and leaning across the desk. "Guess what happened to Mark and I last night!" Hermione giggled girlishly, but remembered her place.  
  
"Not now, Tammy ... maybe during the lunch break." Hermione said, with her ever growing self-discipline. Tammy, however, didn't appear to have heard.  
  
"Well we had a couple of drinks at the Hogshead--"  
  
"Tammy! That's a shady place; it's simply crawling with --" Hermione interrupted Tammy, obviously forgetting her work pact.  
  
"I know, I know, Hermies!" Tammy said in a 'Yes, I know, mother' tone. "But Mark and I went there anyway and we talked heaps and we had all these butterbeers ... I lost count how many. Anyway, we have SO much in common and we get along really well."  
  
"That's great, Tam!" Hermione said, her work pact striking her again. "Listen, it would be even greater if you could tell me during the lunch bre--"  
  
"And then, we went back to my place and I have to tell you, Hermione, Mark does the best-"  
  
"TAMMY!" Hermione said rather sternly. Tammy stopped jabbering and started turning a bit red.  
  
"Oh, right, Gary Tanner, yes ..." Tammy gave Hermione a weak smile which was quickly replaced with a cheeky grin that was their secret sign for discussing things later. Hermione returned it and wiped it off when Gary entered the room.  
  
"Good morning, Mr Tanner." Hermione said, wheeling backwards in her arm chair to the filing cabinet to retrieve Gary's file.  
  
"Good morning to you too, Miss Granger." Gary said. Hermione's fingers danced along the top of the files until it reached the one marked 'Tanner, Gary Eunice'. She pulled it out and put it on the table, shutting the filing cabinet and rolling back towards the desk.  
  
"Tell me, how did the mission go?" Hermione asked. She got out a piece of paper from the file that was marked '6893472 (Pultzer, Wally) - Bristol, 03/09/04'. Hermione then got her favourite quill from her desk and waited for the details of the mission.  
  
"I got him, Miss Granger!" Gary said proudly. Hermione beamed.  
  
"Wonderful, Mr Tanner!" Hermione extended her hand over the table and Gary shook it.  
"Thank you, thank you." Gary's smile matched Hermione's. She saw her quill pausing at the 'Details' section of the paper and decided to continue. "As you know, I had been following the suspect for quite some time, until I decided that action was imminent. After a quick struggle in the suspect's Bristol apartment in Horver Street, in which only a few but deadly spells were fired, I managed to detain the suspect and bring him into the eyes of the law." Gary spoke slower than usual, so Hermione could get it all down. When she set the quill down, Hermione once again extended her hand over the table and Gary once again shook it.  
  
"This is quite fantastic, Mr Tanner!" Hermione smiled again and, with Gary watching quite happily, wrote '03/10/04' under the heading that read 'Captured'. "You should now be aware that you have one more case to go until you are promoted! Good luck to you, indeed, not that you seem to need it anymore!"  
  
After assigning Gary to another case, Hermione put away his file and then called in Leonie Manny, who had also completed her case and received a promotion. Hermione assigned Leonie another case as well, and by this time she was in a higher spirit than before.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione called. The door opened and the scruffy head wizard walked in and shut the door.  
  
"Morning, Hermies." Harry said cheerfully, cheekily winking at her. He knew how much it made her laugh when he did it. Indeed, she did laugh and Harry smiled.  
  
"Morning, Harry," Hermione said, kicking off her shoes - something she did whenever she was in a good mood. "What's up?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much actually," Harry said, shrugging. "I just felt like talking." Hermione frowned. Whenever Harry said that, she knew that something was wrong in his life - most probably the one which included love.  
  
"It seems that I should be asking what's up with Olivia." Olivia was Harry's latest - a saucy little minx that reminded Hermione strongly of Tammy. Olivia was a sort of man-eater wrapped in a cute and innocent exterior, and it seemed that Harry had succumbed. Harry sighed and then leaned back in her chair.  
  
"Things aren't good." He said, taking off his now wire rimmed glasses and rubbing his eyes with his right hand.  
  
"You broke up, didn't you?" Hermione asked, running her hand through her less frizzy brown hair.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said, sighing as he put his glasses back on.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Hermione let out a sigh as well before going over to her best friend and then hugging him.  
  
"Yeah." was his response. Hermione's mind sprang to her own painful memory, but she pushed it away, convincing herself that she shouldn't be thinking of -  
  
"There's plenty more fish in the sea." She reassured Harry soothingly in a bid to stop her train of thought. To that, Harry laughed harshly.  
  
"If so, then I'm the fishing line without the bait." he remarked as Hermione stopped hugging him.  
  
"Oh c'mon, Harry! If you carry on with this attitude, then you're never going to get a girl!" Hermione said as she flopped back down into her chair.  
  
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Harry replied dryly. Hermione winced.  
  
"Sorry, Harry, but you really did need to know the truth. And that's the truth." Hermione said in her defence.  
  
"No, I'm sorry. I bit your head off because Olivia left me for Oliver." Harry said. Hermione sniggered and Harry frowned at her. "That's not funny, Hermione."  
  
"No, you're right." Hermione let out a nervous laugh and even Harry brightened up a little bit. "But it IS funny!"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said weakly. He didn't appear to find it amusing though, because his face drooped back down.  
  
"Look, Harry, why don't you get back to work? I find that when I'm going through a bad break-up, work is the answer." Hermione suggested, sighing.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry moaned. "I have a bleeding heart here and spilling all my emotions to you, but you're telling me to do work!" "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm also your boss as well as your best friend." Hermione said. "Evil overlord..." Harry muttered as he stood up. "What was that, Harry dear?" Hermione asked in a high-pitched, English voice.  
  
"Nothing, Hermies!" Harry said in a matching tone. Hermione smiled to herself and then Harry walked out of the office, letting in Maria Gobs.  
  
"Hello, Miss Gobs." Hermione greeted, offering Maria a seat before sitting down in her own.  
  
"Actually, it's Mrs Gobs." Maria said meekly.  
  
"Ahh, congratulations!" Hermione said jovially. "How long have you been married?"  
  
"Three months."  
  
"Oh, newlyweds!" Hermione exclaimed. At the mention of the word 'newlyweds', Hermione's mind sprang immediately to the muggle television show which featured that blonde singing poppette and her husband. With any luck, Maria wouldn't be spending time confusing tuna with chicken whilst a potential mass murderer would be escaping.  
  
"Yes, things are going quite well." Maria said, fiddling with her hands a little bit.  
  
"Mmm." Hermione pulled out Maria's file and wrote some things down. She unclipped a separate piece of paper and presented it to Maria. "Would you please fill out this survey about the Auror training program? We need your comments and thoughts to improve it."  
  
"Oh; of course!" Maria said, pulling out her own quill.  
  
As Maria started the survey, Hermione shuffled around with some other files, pretending to look like she was busy. In reality, she was thinking about Maria's status.  
Work, education and the continuing thirst for knowledge overpowered Hermione's life, and so she never really had much of a love life, aside from Viktor and, well, the other one. When she graduated from Hogwarts, she had promised herself that she would find a man and a commitment by the time she was 30, so she could play then work and then play and work for the rest of her life. Of course, work was demanding as usual and Hermione found herself sitting in the middle of her apartment with take away Chinese food and a reality show on the T.V instead of showing cleavage and wearing heels in the clubbing scene. It felt very Bridget Jones.  
  
Hermione's mind wondered over to the real relationships she ever had. Viktor was of course one of them. They had broken up in Hermione's seventh year because she found that she had to choose either a relationship or her education. She, being Hermione, obviously chose her education. Viktor understood; which was good. They still exchanged letters, with Hermione's perfect handwriting and Viktor's struggling English. But things were still good between them.  
  
The other person was referred to as 'the other one' in Hermione's mind. But when she, Harry, Tammy or anybody for that matter talked about him, they called him Ron, like everybody should have. Hermione and Ron dated in seventh year, but it had sadly lasted for only a few weeks before they called it quits. They had taken a risk by going out with each other, because not only was Harry alienated (he couldn't get a single girl in that year) but because they knew that it might jeopardise their friendship. And, when they broke up, the two of them found themselves distancing from one another. At the end of the seventh year, Ron had run off with no idea on what he was doing; God only knows where he is. He left without saying goodbye and so Hermione dug that memory a hole in her mind and buried it there. True to her word, she covered herself in work and thought of nothing else. These days, when she found out about somebody breaking up (like Harry), or going out on a date (like Tammy), or somebody getting married (like Maria) she remembered that incident. She even found herself remembering as she was eating her Chinese take away on home whilst she watching that blonde poppette and her husband, and she felt utterly alone.  
  
"Miss Granger?" Maria interrupted Hermione's train of thought with a whisper of a voice.  
  
"Hm? Oh, right, yes Miss - Mrs Gobs?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I've finished the survey." Maria gave the paper back to Hermione.  
  
"Thank you. One moment, please." Hermione got up and started searching for the box marked 'Surveys', even though she knew exactly where it was. Her mind kept wondering back onto Viktor and Ron ... She mused to herself that it was the first time she had thought Ron's name in such a long time.  
  
Oh, this was going to be a long day.  
  
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"Draco!" a voice rang out in the elaborate halls of the Malfoy Manor.  
  
Draco Malfoy, the 25 year-old male equivalent of Paris Hilton, stirred in his sleep. The previous night, Draco had (once again) flung himself into partying hard with his usual group of partygoers. He had gone from club to club, drink to drink and especially girl to girl. And (once again) he had gotten smashed and went to another girl's apartment. This morning after, as per usual, was no different to any other one. There was yet again a throbbing headache (nothing a quick pepper-up potion couldn't fix, as he was well aware now), tousled hair and hatred of light of any source.  
  
"Draco!" the voice repeated. Draco groaned and his arm flew out of the blanket in an attempt to smash his magical alarm clock, even though that wasn't making the noise.  
  
"DRACO!" the voice rang out again and there was a dull CLUNK as Draco's alarm clock dropped to the floor. There was a sound of flung open curtains and sunlight filtered into the room.  
  
Draco moaned in hangover frustration, and his arm went for the lamp.  
  
"Oh, Draco!" the owner of the intrusive voice was apparently Narcissa Malfoy, who was staring intently out of the window. "How can you sleep in today?"  
Narcissa was a tall woman with a willowy figure. She adored covering herself in silk when she was at home; and in Italian silk when she was going somewhere special. She was the sort of person who was elegant all of the time, and you could tell just by looking at her. Narcissa's attitude to her son's consistent partying was also elegant in the way that she wasn't about to jump into a headband/tube top and start partying and drinking heavily. But even though her attitude was elegant, it was also carefree in the way that when Draco came home smashed (it was always a case of when, not if), she acted like she was just Draco's friend and gave him hangover tips and everything. She wasn't a lecturing mother type, but more of a nagger, and that was probably why Draco was able to get away with such an exuberant lifestyle as soon as he got away from all the nagging.  
  
"Wah?" Draco groaned in a heavily groggy voice.  
  
"Don't sleep in, Draco!" Narcissa said in an un-maternal tone as she grabbed Draco's covers and pulled them off of him.  
  
"Mum!" Draco sat up from his bed, red eyed, scruffy haired and croaky voiced.  
  
"Oh don't complain to me, Draco!" Narcissa said frostily. "Besides, today is a wonderful day. Look at all those clouds and that glorious sunshine." It was actually quite rare of Narcissa to compliment anything as being 'wonderful' or 'glorious', but Draco ignored it.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure it is, mother," Draco said dryly. "But I think that I'll look at 'those clouds and that glorious sunshine' later, when I'm not in the mood to kill somebody." Narcissa hmphed and then sat herself down onto the chair next to Draco's bed.  
  
Draco thought privately to himself that his mother would have sprang up immediately if she knew what kind of things he had done on that chair with people .  
  
"So how was last night?" She asked him, playing with the material of the armrests. She wondered why they were so chaffed, and made a mental note to hire somebody to repair it.  
  
"Aww, Mum!" Draco rubbed his eyes and then fell back into bed.  
  
"What? A mother can't ask her son how something went?" Narcissa shot back sharply.  
  
"Not in that context." Draco replied, undeterred by her tone.  
  
"Fine, fine. Did you have fun yesterday?" Narcissa rephrased, rolling her eyes. Draco grew suspicious ... after all, his mother usually never asked him about, well, anything unless it concerned purchases or anything superficial in which she came out the winner.  
  
"Yeah, everything was great." Draco said. He actually wasn't sure if it had been a good night or not. All he remembered were nice tasting apple martinis and a sensational blonde girl called Candy.  
  
"Good, good." Narcissa said, as if she didn't really care or wasn't listening. There was an awkward silence.  
  
"Is there anything interesting that I should know about, mother?" Draco asked after a few minutes.  
  
"Oh, no." Narcissa said in an extremely fake tone. Then she sighed. "Actually, there is ONE thing ..."  
  
"What would that be?" Draco asked. He had a bad feeling about this. The same feeling that popped up whenever he felt like he was going to be told something that he didn't want to hear.  
  
"I was reading the Daily Prophet one day and I saw an enquiry about a job there. They want a bodyguard for one of their officials, and I thought how wonderful it would be if you were to go for it." Narcissa said, continuing to pick at the material. Intuition: 1, Situation: 0.  
  
"Get a job?" Draco asked. Narcissa nodded.  
  
"It's just because you're so strong and nicely built, so you would make a fantastic bodyguard." Narcissa offered. Flattery was always the way for Malfoys, but this time what she said was true.  
  
Draco had played Quidditch for a good three years professionally, but had stopped when he was booted off his team, following a scandal involving him, his coach, a bed and a wide selection of animals. Anyway, over that course of three years and his continual playing during school, Draco managed to build himself quite a physique and he had plenty of muscles, but not in the scarily obvious way of those body building people, but not in the extremely subtle way of dweebs with _Hogwarts: A History, Compressed Version_ in their front t-shirt pocket. He was also a good six foot four last time he had checked, and his hair was now never gelled and kept in a sort of organised mess (but not at the moment because right now it was a tangled disaster zone). Not that his physical detail mattered much if he was going to be a bodyguard where the job mainly required muscles, height and a good physique.  
  
"I don't want a job, mother." Draco said, and Narcissa scowled.  
  
"There are lots of things in life that we don't want, Draco, and working is one of them. But unfortunately, we have to work, and you are no exception to that group." Narcissa snapped.  
  
"I didn't have to work before." Draco replied in his crappy defence.  
  
"Things change." Narcissa said coldly. Draco sighed and then Narcissa carried on with the details about the job. "What happens is that once you get the job, you'll have to follow the person everywhere except for the bathroom, where you will stand outside of their cubicle. You are to protect the person by any means, but the course of action taken must be appropriate for the situation. And finally, you are to live with your client until your duties are ful--"  
  
"Excuse me?" Draco intercepted, hoping that his hearing was going after all that party music.  
  
"Do not interrupt you mother!" Narcissa said. She sighed again. "What is it?"  
  
"Did you say that I had to live with the client?" Draco asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yes." Narcissa replied. She blinked. "Was that so hard to understand?"  
  
"Why would I have to live with them?" Draco asked angrily. "What if they live in a dingy  
apartment and don't have chefs or even proper food or entertainment? What should I do then?"  
  
"You'll live with them!" Narcissa insisted. "Draco, however will you be able to enter the world if you have no survival skills? Even though you are a Malfoy and you will always be treated like one, you have to learn in case anything bad happens."  
  
The keywords 'you are a Malfoy and you will always be treated like one' rang in his mind. Instantly, he knew that his mother had managed to bribe the Ministry into accepting him into the job. That; or she had good connections. Then again, she was Narcissa Malfoy, so she would have and had both done. He couldn't fight it now, and he knew that his mother only told him about this job because this was his warning on not to be late on his first day of work. Ever.  
  
"When does this job start?" Draco sighed.  
  
"I knew you'd accept, Draco!" Narcissa said, smiling ever so slightly. "It starts tomorrow at seven a.m." Draco blinked. He was never much of a morning person, and seven a.m. was considered as the unnatural hour. Seven a.m. was the stake to the vampire heart; the failed album to the artist and the 10.30pm slot to the T.V. show.  
  
"I can't get up then." Draco said blandly. He had already planned another night of partying for tonight, and Dumbledore would be wriggling his naked butt in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts before Draco got up at seven a.m. the next morning.  
  
"Draco!" Narcissa snapped. "This is your first ever job ... of course you have to be on time!"  
  
"Not when it's seven a.m." Draco shot back. Narcissa sighed wearily.  
  
"Your father and I have provided you with everything you could possibly want for your entire life. We gave you toys, brooms, clothes, house elves, your wand. Anything you wanted, you received without any argument. We even gave you life! And --"  
  
"Mother, this is not a time for the birds and the bees talk." Draco interjected smoothly. Narcissa's mood shifted, and the topic of the argument did as well apparently.  
  
"Not that you need it, Draco." she said simply. She stopped toying with the armrest material and then crossed her own arms before leaning back into her seat. "Tell me; do you not want this job because you don't want to give up your choice of lifestyle and consequently, girls?" Draco blinked. He was never one to be especially fond of his mother, so he wasn't one to suddenly say 'Yes mum, I don't want to work because all I want to do is shag girls all day and drink.' He would have said it to his friends without any trouble in the world, but to his mum it was different.  
  
WAY different.  
  
"Whatever do you mean, mother?" Draco asked, noticing that if his silence continued, then his mother would definitely get suspicious, even though she had evidently caught on already.  
  
"Oh, Draco, don't play naïve with me!" Narcissa spat. "We both know what happens when you go out and don't come back for hours. You don't have to be as stupid as a mudblood to know what you do to keep yourself pre-occupied for so long."  
  
"I have fun with my friends. We drink." Draco said simply. His mother's eyes glinted maliciously.  
  
"So you like 'having fun' with more than one person, do you?" Narcissa snarled. Draco was immediately repulsed. There were some things that should never be discussed with a mother, no matter how close you were to them.  
  
"That, mother, is none of your business." Draco said before he could stop himself. He knew that this would give his mother an impression that what she had accused him of doing was true. Narcissa's nostrils flared in triumph. Draco sighed this time and fell back limply onto his headboard. "Fine, I'll go to work tomorrow." Narcissa smirked superiorly.  
  
"Wonderful, Draco." she said. "Now, when you are ready for the job, go to the Ministry, introduce yourself to the guard and tell them that you're the new bodyguard for the President of the Auror Headquaters. I'm sure that they'll show you to the office, and there you will meet your new boss."  
  
"And my things?" Draco enquired in a defeated voice.  
  
"Pack today, and then they will be sent to your boss's residence. Are there any more questions?" Narcissa asked. Draco shook his head and Narcissa rose out of her seat. She awkwardly set her hand on Draco's head in a very rare show of affection. "You're a good boy, Draco. Work hard." With that, she left the room.  
Draco let out a big breath and then stared up at the ceiling. He found it both surprising and angering that a Malfoy, of all people, had to work in such a lowly job. He found it ironical that he would be working for the boss of the very corporation that had captured his father and shoved him into Azkaban. If his father knew, then he would obviously scowl or be filled with anger. That gave Draco a little comfort.  
  
There was a knock on the door of Draco's room. Draco tensed, thinking that it was his mother and she was about to question him on his love life ... or sex life to be more accurate.  
  
"Who is it?" Draco asked, making a fumbling noise to pretend that he was getting changed so he could at least send his mother away with a legitimate excuse.  
  
"Drinky, Master Draco!" Draco sighed; it was only his house elf.  
  
"Enter!" Draco's voice boomed. The door opened and the small figure of Drinky appeared.  
  
"Drinky has Master Draco's letters." the house elf seemed scared of Draco as it approached and handed Draco the different envelopes.  
  
"Leave." Draco said as he grabbed the letters. Drinky bowed his head and quickly exited the room.  
  
Draco opened the first one half-heartedly. He was going to have to work. For the very first time in his entire life; so that he could make money. It was despicable.  
  
Noticing that the first letter was an ad, Draco threw it aside angrily and then closed his eyes.  
  
He had better get a letter soon announcing that Dumbledore had been arrested for incident exposure for wriggling his arse around Hogwarts.  
  
.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·. ':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:  
  
**A/N:** So there's the very first chapter; I hope that you enjoyed it! :) The second one is coming along quite well, so in the meantime ... REVIEW LIKE CRAZY PEOPLE! Every author loves reviews, and I'm ... just like the rest of them. )  
I will give imaginary cupcakes and chocolate to those who do review as a reward. ;)  
  
Your devoted fanfiction writer,  
--Look at moiye, ploise!--  
  
**P.S.** Here are a few thank you's .  
  
**J.K. Rowling** ... the queen of the mighty "Harry Potter" empire. Without Jo, there would be no Harry Potter, and that's a very frightening thought indeed.  
  
**The writers of the T.V. show **_Hack_. I hate the show, but I questioned myself over one particular episode one night and asked myself why a gorgeous late 20's-early 30's woman would ever fall in love with a grey haired, cab driver/ex-policeman. The words 'strong', 'protection' and, to a lesser extent, 'dangerous' struck me. And that small train of thought inspired this story. Thank you _Hack_ :)


	2. Opposite Sides of the Wheel

**The Bodyguard**

(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and adult themes)

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influuencial Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Any entertainment programs or movies mentioned do not belong to me. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**THE BODYGUARD**

Chapter 2 - _Opposite Sides of the Wheel_

Hermione was called into the office of the Minister of Magic himself, Arthur Weasley, later that day. Cornelius Fudge had been overthrown as Minister after Voldemort had been defeated a few years earlier. In different circumstances, Hermione would have been ecstatic that Mr Weasley would be getting the promotion and funding that he deserved. However, there weren't different circumstances (it was labelled the 'Ron Situation' in the private depths of her mind), and so Hermione dreaded ever having to see Mr Weasley. It was just too awkward around them.

Hermione had always privately blamed herself for Ron's departure. She was sure that if she and Ron had talked their problems out, then Ron would still have been living in the Burrow, and she would have celebrated crazily along with the rest of the Weasley clan when Arthur was promoted. But no, Ron was not here, and she had not celebrated crazily. And she had told herself to move on, and to forget the silly behaviour around Arthur, but she had told herself to move on so many times that she thought it would be suitable to move onto a different solution to her problems.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Mr Weasley's secretary greeted Hermione perkily. "The Minister is expecting you. Enter whenever you wish." As soon as the secretary had finished that last sentence, Hermione had a wild urge to run off as fast her shoes could have taken her. But that was stupid. They were both fully grown adults; they could settle this sanely. Hopefully.

Instead, Hermione took in an unsteady breath and then knocked on the door that was marked 'Minister of Magic: Arthur Weasley' in regal looking red letters.

"Come in." Mr Weasley's voice floated out. Hermione gripped the door knob and then entered the room.

"Good morning, Minister." Hermione said stiffly. Mr Weasley nodded, and then gestured for her to take a seat, which she did.

"You know that I've told you so many times to call me 'Arthur', Hermione." Mr Weasley said, sitting down in his own chair.

"I'm not comfortable with informalities when in presence of such authorities, Minister." Hermione replied, knowing that she was only saying that to piss Mr Weasley off.

"Alright, alright;" Mr Weasley replied. "Hermione, the real reason I called you into here is to talk about your status--"

'Oh shit.' Hermione thought to herself. 'He's going to talk about Ron and ask me if I know anything, and then we're going to get into a big fight and I'll lose my job. Or maybe he's going to ask me about my own opinions on why Ron left. Pfft ... I already knew that he left over me. Or, or ...'

"--of security." Mr Weasley finished. Hermione's pulse slowed down.

'Oh.'

"Oh?" she asked calmly - or as calmly as she could muster.

"Yes. You are, as you are now aware, the head of a very important headquarters, Hermione." Mr Weasley said. She wished that he would stop calling her by her first name; it was getting on her nerves. "And you've probably thought of your security once or twice previously." Hermione responded with a subtle blink of the eyes. Mr Weasley paused, waiting for her answer.

"Yes, Minister." Hermione replied.

"Well, I've decided to hire you a bodyguard. He will follow you anywhere, except for the bathroom, of course. This is for privacy measures, obviously, but he will also live with you, so there can be 24 hr surveillance on you." Mr Weasley explained. Hermione gulped.

'There's going to be an extra person in my house, living with me, and I didn't even know.' She thought to herself, biting her lip. 'Well, they have an element of surprise, I'll give them that.'

"Now, I've met this young man, and he even though when we first met he gave a less than welcoming response, I strongly doubt that he is the same person as before. It might even be counted as ironic that he will be working for a person in your current occupational position." Mr Weasley said. The Tammy part of Hermione's brain kicked in, and she wondered if the guy was hot. "Mr Malfoy, you may meet your new boss."

'SHIT!'

The door opened, and Draco Malfoy stepped into the room to meet the equally shocked and rounded eyes of Hermione Granger.

'NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!' Hermione was going to throw something against the wall ... maybe Mr Weasley would have been most appropriate.

One of Draco's jaw muscles tensed as he walked towards Hermione and extended his hand.

"What have I done to enter the Twilight Zone?" Hermione breathed to herself.

"Ahh, the strong, silent type." Mr Weasley said; a twinkle in his eye that slightly resembled Dumbledore's.

Almost too scared to move, Hermione got up off of her seat and then begrudgingly shook Draco's hand whilst looking him in the eye.

'Hm, they're a stormy blue-grey colour ... NO! What the hell are you thinking, Hermione? THIS IS DRACO MALFOY, THE GIANT ASS-HOLE THAT MADE YOU LIFE CRAP DURING SCHOOL!' Hermione was the first one to draw back from the handshake. She may have been too flabbergasted to speak, but she could definitely think efficiently.

"Right, now, the two of you can go back to Miss Granger's office. Mr Malfoy, you will use any means necessary to protect Miss Granger, as long as it is appropriate for the situation. I trust, though, that you already knew that ...?" Mr Weasley cut in. Draco tore his disapproving stare off of Hermione to nod swiftly to Mr Weasley.

"Yes, Minister." he said stiffly.

"Fantastic. Well, good day!" Mr Weasley started filing through some papers on his desk.

Hermione exited the room, stuttering. This couldn't be happening. Today was supposed to be a good day, but all of a sudden it went ... phht.

" 'Phht' indeed." Hermione muttered to herself. She shoved Draco against the wall. "Stay here." Surprisingly, Draco shut up as well - which was an added bonus - and Hermione went back into Mr Weasley's office.

"Minister!" Hermione said.

"Yes, Hermione?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Draco Malfoy!" Hermione said in shock and anger.

"If you intend on naming random people, I do advise that you do it when you're not in the presence of one of them ..."

"Don't play dumb with me, Arthur!" Hermione argued.

"Ahh, it seems that you've finally taken to calling me by the first name. Nice work." Mr Weasley gave a Dumbledore smile.

"Would you stop beating around the bush?!" Hermione yelled, not particularly caring that it was the Minister of Magic she was yelling at, and that Draco was outside and was probably pretty satisfied that Hermione was getting angry.

"I do assure you that there is no bush that I am apparently beating around." Mr Weasley said.

'This is infuriating! He's like some sort of idiot who speaks in riddles ...'

"Oh, c'mon! You hired DRACO FUCKING MALFOY as my BODYGUARD! The person who is going to LIVE WITH ME to PROTECT ME!" Hermione said, slamming both hands onto the table. Right now, it wasn't a fight concerning the boss and the worker. It was a fight between two people - one being infuriatingly calm and the other being infuriated.

"Hermione, you might be upset, but profanity is not needed." Mr Weasley said.

"This is payback, isn't it?" Hermione asked angrily. "You think that I made Ron leave, and so you're getting your revenge by hiring that ... that ... THING to be my bodyguard!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mr Weasley said simply.

"Don't act stupid, Arthur! You know this is revenge. You know it, I know it. Hell, even the albino ferret knows it!" Hermione said, pointing to Mr Weasley, herself and the doorway respectively.

"This has gone quite far enough." Mr Weasley said, rising out of his seat. "I am the Minister of Magic, Miss Granger!"

"And I'm the President of the Auror Headquarters - what's your point?" Hermione shot back.

"Leave my office immediately and live with it - I have more important things to do than to argue with you." Mr Weasley said in controlled rage before sitting back down.

'Stupid git.' Hermione thought to herself as she stepped out of his office. Draco was still waiting for her outside.

"Had a bit of a tiff, did you?" Draco asked, smirking.

"Oh, shut up." Hermione snapped.

"Ooh, not in a good mood are we?" Draco winked at her and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"First of all, me, you and that git were never a 'we' in the first place." Hermione replied before leading the both of them to the elevator. "Secondly, I'm pissed off, Malfoy, so leave me alone."

"I assure you that the feeling is mutual." Draco said as Hermione poked the 'Up' button furiously.

"Wonderful. Then we can both have a mutual agreement that I'll fire you and get a new bodyguard." The elevator dinged and the door opened; Hermione stepping in first and facing the back wall.

"I'm sorry, little Miss Perpetually PMS 2004, but I'm not leaving this job!" Draco said as the door closed. There was no way that he would leave this job - his mother would kill him ... Or have the 'birds and the bees' talk with him - which was worse.

Hermione turned around, arms crossed. "What did you call me?"

"Whatever you think I did." Draco said smoothly.

'I haven't seen him for seven years, and he's still a prick.' Hermione thought to herself as she turned back to face the elevator wall.

"Look; why do you still want the job?" Hermione asked. Then a better question struck her. "Why do you want a job in the first place? You've got enough money to feed your ever-growing libido for the rest of your life. It's not as if you need any more."

Draco smirked at the libido comment - both of them knew that it was true. "Not that it would mean anything to you, but I decided that I needed a change of scenery." He knew that his mother would turn into a perfect, loving and maternal parent before he told Hermione that he had only taken the job so that his mother wouldn't have killed him.

"Yeah?" Hermione scoffed. "And what scenery would that be?"

"The clubbing one." Draco replied. "Doesn't really seem like you would know it, what with being in the same job for so long. I wouldn't think of you as the cleavage-over-cleverness type."

Hermione ignored the insult and instead felt jealous. She was the one who had been stuck in a job for the previous 5 years in the same place. She was the one who had always dreamed of doing nothing but partying for that long. She was the one who was the victim! And what was she doing? She was working with a man who had what she wanted ... Yet he wanted a change of lifestyle. He must of been crazy.

"You must be crazy." Hermione said. Draco laughed.

"I'm not the crazy one. I've decided to settle down ..." Draco looked Hermione up and down disdainfully. "No matter the situation I am settling for." Hermione rolled her eyes.

The elevator dinged and three people entered; each giving Hermione unspoken greetings. She returned them with a curt nod of the head, and even Draco knew that their situation wasn't to be discussed right now. Instead, they just looked at each other with equal contempt.

There was silence now as the steady hum of the elevator overpowered any other noise. It dinged and then the doors opened at Hermione (and now also Draco's) floor. Nodding to the other people in the elevator, Hermione stepped out with Draco in tow.

The entire office went silent when they saw Draco.

Women spilled their coffee. Men dropped their photocopies. Gary Tanner stood mouth agape. Harry looked repulsed.

"Hermione, if you duck, I can get a clear shot of him." Harry muttered to Hermione out of the corner of his mouth.

Hermione shook her head wearily instead and surveyed the scene. All of the aurors (even Gary Tanner, who seemed to have regained his composure) had their hands on their wands, ready to act. Only Tammy was the one who actually smiled when she saw Draco.

'I guess Mark is out of the window.' Hermione thought to herself as she saw Tammy winking at Draco, obviously not having a clue in the world who he was.

"If this is the best the Auror Headquarters can do, then I'm actually not surprised." Draco commented into the silence.

"Funny, isn't it then, that such headquarters could have captured your father and stuck him in Azkaban." Harry said in a whisper-like tone. Draco felt his blood pumping. He bit his tongue. No way was he going to let Pot-head see him lose his cool.

Oh, screw it.

"Shut up about my father, you stupid little piece of shit!" Draco shouted at him. "How would you know, anyway? It wasn't as if you ever had a father to feel asham--"

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, pulling out his wand and stunning Draco.

All at once, the office returned to noise, and all the normal activity resumed. The women cleaned up their mess and the men picked up their dropped papers. Tammy got up immediately.

"Harry!" Hermione said, not bothering to bend down to check on Draco.

"Hermione!" Harry shot back.

"The sludge bucket is my new - and only - bodyguard." Hermione said. Harry could have fainted.

"Dr ... Dr ... Draco Malfoy? The bouncing slug himself?" Harry asked incredulously. "Excuse me, Hermione, but whoever employed him was delusional."

"I'm sure that Ron and his father would have loved to hear that." Hermione grumbled to Harry, who immediately shut up.

"Ooh, who's this character?" Tammy looked down onto the stunned form of Draco, overlooking the fact that Harry had said that his father had been sent to Azkaban by aurors. "He's cute."

"What happened to Mark?" Hermione asked wryly.

"Hrm?" Tammy asked, not daring to stop staring at Draco.

"You know ... the guy who does the best --"

"Oh, well, consider it over." Tammy said nonchalantly. "Besides, even when he's stunned ... This guy looks like he would know what he's doing."

"Tammy!" Harry interrupted. "Not now, and definitely not with THIS person. What are we going to do with him?" Hermione shrugged.

"He's my bodyguard." Hermione said, involuntarily flinching at the sound of those words. She frowned in a nondescript way. "Hmm ... Didn't put up much of a fight, did he?"

"I would have preferred that it stayed that way during school." Harry added, nudging Draco's side with his shoe. "Hey, that's fun!"

"What's his name?" Tammy asked, ignoring Harry, who was immensely enjoying himself as he nudged Draco's side.

"Draco Malfoy." Hermione spat with a great hatred. Tammy's eyes lit up.

"Malfoy?" she asked in disbelief. "Wasn't he captured by McCrow and then shoved into Azkaban?"

"No, that was just his father." Hermione said grimly. "This is the merely the son of the devil."

"I find that easy to believe." Harry said, crossing his arms as he stopped nudging Draco.

"Well, what DO we do to him?" Hermione asked. Tammy's eyes glinted.

"If you're up for a bit of excitement, all we need is some chocolate body paint and --"

"Tammy!" Hermione snapped. Tammy giggled.

"Ok, Ok, how about we just put him in your office?" Tammy suggested. "He's your pathetic bodyguard ... he should stick with you."

"Good idea." Harry agreed. "Even though he should be burnt at the stake instead."

"Why can't we just Enervate him?" Hermione asked, ignoring Harry. He, however, intervened on this one.

"Oh, come on, Hermes!" he said. "How many times will you ever get Draco Malfoy stunned in front of you? Let's just put him in your office and see what happens from there."

Hermione sighed and then picked up one of his legs; Harry did have a point.

"Help me carry him." Hermione said as she started tugging.

"Mobilicorpus!" Harry said, and Draco lifted off of the ground, sending Hermione sprawling backwards with an ungraceful "AWP!"

"Harry, you're fired." Hermione mumbled, reminding herself of Donald Trump.

"I am sorry, oh mighty leader of the Auror Headquarters." Harry said in a flat tone.

"Shut up." Hermione shot back, getting back up and dusting down her skirt.

Once Draco was safely in Hermione's office, Hermione, Tammy and Harry sat down and stared at Draco, in-advertedly studying him.

"He's definitely the same crackpot we saw last time." Harry concluded grimly.

"Acts like it too." Hermione agreed ruefully.

"Still a jerk-ass?" Harry asked, not even looking at Hermione.

"Did a good job proving it." Hermione replied, looking only at Draco as well.

"Thought so." Harry replied.

"I think that he's hot." Tammy said casually.

"Excuse me?" both Harry and Hermione turned to stare at Tammy, who was resting her head in the palm of her head whilst her elbow jutted into her leg.

"I think that he's hot." Tammy repeated.

"Oh, ew!" Harry turned an odd shade of green. "This is Malfoy, we're talking about! All the money that he spent on hair gel could have gone to feed a third world country!" Tammy frowned slightly and turned her head a different angle so that she could see Draco better - something both Harry and Hermione thought was beyond comprehension.

"He doesn't seem to use it anymore." Tammy commented. Hermione gave Draco a quick glance and realised that Tammy was right. Draco's hair was now more of a mess ... but not quite a mess.

'It's like an organised mess.' Hermione thought to herself. 'Like organised flakes of a blonde me--'

"I can't believe that you can look at him in that way!" Hermione objected loudly, as if the noise level would effectively block out her thoughts.

"Fine, fine." Tammy held her hands up in defeat. Harry and Hermione exchanged glad glances. "I just reckon that he's aesthetically pleasing." Tammy said slyly. The remaining two groaned.

"You can't even see his face properly." Harry pointed out.

"Oh, don't worry ... Any other part of his anatomy will do." Tammy winked before giving herself a Draco smirk.

This was probably the best time for Draco to wake up - and he did. The blonde stretched out ever so subtly as he slowly opened his eyes, raising his eyebrow in an attempt to keep them opened. As his vision came slowly to him, Draco resumed his usual smug face. He looked around the office to find Hermione, Harry and a girl who he didn't know the name of. She was pretty hot, though, and that was only what counted according to Draco.

"Why, Granger! I've never had a foursome before ..." Draco said, lounging lazily in his chair. "All that's missing is the bed and the handcuffs. Then again, I've done it in more interesting locations than a bed ..."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll take that perverted little fantasy and shove it up your ass." Hermione said derogatorily.

"By all means, except it won't be MY ass that I'll put it IN ..." Draco winked at Hermione and Harry whipped out his wand.

"Listen, Dracula, how about you keep on talking and then I'll just blast your butt out of this department?" Harry asked.

"Ahh, jealous are we, Potter?" Draco asked, ignoring Hermione and going for Harry. He looked Harry up and down disdainfully, a pug-like look crossing his handsome face. "You haven't changed one bit. Still always trying to be the hero, I can see."

"At least trying to be the hero is better than achieving being the pompous git." Harry returned. Draco held his hand up to his heart, looking like he had been hurt inside and out.

"I'm mortally wounded, Potter!" Draco said sarcastically.

"If only." Hermione muttered to nobody in particular. She caught Tammy still drooling over Draco, and immediately sent her a 'cut it out!' look. Draco saw this, however, and sauntered over to Tammy arrogantly.

"Hello, there." Draco said; his voice practically having its own smirk. "I'm Draco."

"Tammy." Tammy said, getting up and giving him a flirtatious smile.

"Well, Miss Tammy, it's nice to meet you." Draco said, slowly lifting up Tammy's hand before kissing it. He leant in to her ear and started whispering. "I'm sure that we'll get to know each other better."

"Me two." Tammy replied.

In the meantime, Harry and Hermione were looking off into the distance, discussing random topics.

"The weather's been nice lately." Hermione commented airily as she looked out of her spacious windows.

"Quite." Harry agreed, also looking out of the windows.

"Hmm, it looks like my pot plant needs some watering." Hermione said as she gestured to the dying green mess in the corner.

"I know a spell for it." Harry offered. He aimed his wand at the plant. "Evarleafus!" A small green jet flew out of his wand and hit the plant, which started flourishing before their eyes. It was like growth had been videotaped, re-winded and then fast forwarded.

"Thanks." Hermione said, looking past the figure of Draco (who was still flirting shamelessly with Tammy) to the pot plant. "It looks a lot healthier."

"You're welcome." Harry replied, looking past the figure Tammy (who was still flirting shamelessly with Draco) to the pot plant. "Feel free to use that spell whenever you want."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hermione said. She opened her mouth again to talk when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Harry and Hermione said in unison, both with probably too much enthusiasm.

The door swung open and Kiki Summers - the lunch lady - came in with a pad of paper and a pen.

"Hi, Miss Granger." Kiki smiled, nodding to everyone else, particularly Draco. "What would you like for lunch today?"

Being the President of the Auror Headquarters had its advantages - for one thing, Hermione got her own free waitress to bring her free food. Everyday, Kiki would come in and ask Hermione what she wanted for lunch. Today was obviously no exception.

"I think I'll go out for lunch, Kiki." Hermione replied and Kiki nodded, before exiting the room. Hermione got up and headed for the door, Draco and Tammy still talking to each other. Harry hurried over to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked her. "Everywhere you go you have to have him to guard you. Do you really want Malfoy going out and making a scene?" Hermione shrugged.

"It's not gonna kill me, Harry. Besides, the real reason why I'm going out to lunch is because of this:--" Hermione grabbed her coat and clicked her fingers as she winked to Harry. "-- come, Draco!"

With that, she swept out of the room, an angry Draco by her side.

That night at work, Draco sat himself in a squishy blue armchair that was kept as far away from Hermione as possible. After lunch (which had gone without anything bad happening), all Draco had done was flirt with that Tammy girl for quite a while before Hermione called him in and told him that he was getting paid to guard her, and he wasn't going to be doing that if he was 'visually shagging Tammy all the time.' Draco had scoffed, of course, and had gone to the squishy blue chair. He remained there for ages, on the verge of sleep as Hermione plowed through pile after pile of paperwork.

Finally, Hermione stretched and put on her shoes. She got up closed the filing cabinet.

"Are we going?" Draco asked in a bored tone. It was his first day of work and he was already bored to tears.

"Yes, actually." Hermione replied as she pulled on her coat. Draco instantly stood up and went straight to the door as Hermione turned off the lights in her office.

They stepped out and Hermione locked the door with an un-alohomora-able spell. Then Hermione checked that everything was locked and secure with Draco in tow. When everything seemed to be in order, Hermione conjured up a fireplace. Draco took a pinch of the Floo Powder on the side and threw it into the fire, which turned emerald grin. He gave a smug look as he saw the thriving Slytherin coloured flames.

"Ok, this fireplace is going to selfdestruct in 30 seconds, so we'll make it quick. The floo address for my flat is Granger, Harbour St, London. I'm going to apparate, so I'll meet you there." Hermione explained. As soon as Draco nodded, she disappeared with a POP and a yawn.

"Granger, Harbour St, London." Draco said and stepped in. Then he was on his way to Hermione Granger's house.

Before, he was in the deserted Auror Headquarters in the Ministry of Magic. Now, he was in a timber floored, cream walled house. There were comfortable looking couches and chairs dotted around neatly, and there was a coffee table that held a bowl full of fruit. The halogen lamps had been turned on, and from his view of the fireplace, Draco could see a hint of a bedroom with a nicely made up bed. There was the hum of a fridge and the sound of running water from a tap.

Getting up from his spot, Draco turned to get a better look at the place. It was a modest flat without too many fancy trimmings, but it had a nice warm and comfy feel to it; so unlike the cold and uninviting Malfoy Manor. The couches were almost asking to be sat on, and there were pillows laid on them. Frowning, Draco noticed that his things had been placed onto one of them. He had expected a bed or something that was at least made for sleeping; instead, he had gotten a couch.

'Oh well, it IS Granger, after all.' Draco thought to himself. He looked around. 'Speaking of which, where is the dirty mudblood?'

He quickly found the answer to his question in the kitchen. Hermione was in there chopping vegetables hopelessly. She had made some strong black coffee in a large mug and occasionally took long sips from it when her chopping went more haywire than usual. She drank it like an alcoholic would drink strong tasting and burning tequila.

Draco leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, watching Hermione with an entertained expression. She had mastered every subject that she had taken at school perfectly. She topped every subject, every year. She had been prefect and Head Girl. She had been valedictorian for Hogwarts. She had gotten a job at the Ministry of Magic and had become the President of the Auror Headquarters in the span of a few years. So it amused Draco greatly that Hermione failed at something so simple as making vegetable soup.

"Having a few culinary troubles, Granger?" Draco asked. He saw Hermione set down the knife (which was a good sign) and pack the vegetables away into a plate that was eventually covered with plastic.

"So what? I can't cook to save my life." Hermione said, draining the mug of coffee. "At least I'm not you." She set the mug into the sink and filled it with water.

"Hey, I can cook." Draco held up his hands.

"And that would be your one and only talent." Hermione said, as if it were a statement, not a question.

"Oh, I've got many other talents." Draco said, smirking. He moved towards Hermione, who rolled her eyes. "It's just that they're not in the kitchen."

"Hey, that's great!" Hermione said sarcastically. "Tell somebody who cares."

"I'm sure that you might soon." Draco winked, moving even closer.

"I'm sure that I never will." Hermione replied.

"Really, now?" Draco asked, now only inches away from her face. His eyes darted around her face, going from her eyes down to her lips. "Are you certain about that?" He moved closer, semi-closing his eyes.

Suddenly, the situation hit Hermione like a ton of Pensieves at once. Draco Malfoy was leaning into her face slowly with his eyes closing. He was way too close, and there was probably no chance of escape if she wanted to dart away. This was bad. REALLY bad.

"I know Tae Kwon Doe." Hermione blurted out. She really didn't know Tae Kwon Doe (she only knew what it was because she had read about it when she was doing Muggle Studies during school) and if asked to perform it, she had better chance of cooking a full course, five star a dinner for royalty.

Draco stopped moving, which was at least something. He frowned. "What's that?"

"It means that I can knee you where it REALLY hurts and not even feel any remorse." Hermione replied. Draco seemed non-pulsed, but he did back off.

"Your loss." He shrugged.

"I'll take my chances." Hermione said simply, pushing Draco out of the way in order to get to the phone. "Do you like pizza?"

"No." Draco replied. He found that the oil and the sauce could easily stain his shirts and could prove to be quite messy. He didn't like the hands-on approach to eating it either; he was born an aristocrat (if not a slightly snobby one), and he'd act like an aristocrat till his dying day.

"Great!" Hermione punched in the number of the local magical pizza place and ordered a large supreme pizza. Draco scowled at her.

"One pizza isn't going to be enough." he said, admitting to defeat.

"Who said that you were going to have some?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"Well, you said that you could cook." Hermione shrugged. "So go ahead, use the kitchen and make your own dinner. Just clean everything and put it back where it came from once you're finished." Hermione plucked a tea towel from its resting spot and shoved it against Draco's chest.

"B-b-bu--" Draco protested.

"Have fun!" Hermione's voice echoed from the living room, where she had switched on the T.V. to find that newly married celebrity muggle couple. It was that blonde, ditzy pop singer and her former boy band, pretty-boy husband.

Draco slinked around angrily in the kitchen, throwing the tea towel down onto the stove. He went into the living room to find Hermione sitting cross-legged in front of the TV. This was not funny. It must have been a sick prank or something to have set him up with Granger, of all people. She thought that he was an inconvenience, but did she ever consider herself as one? Obviously not.

"I'm not cooking, Granger." Draco said drawled, crossing his arms in a form of defense.

"Great. You can go and starve whilst I go and get another bodyguard." Hermione replied, still watching the television.

"I'm serious." Draco persisted.

"So am I." Hermione said.

"Granger!" Draco protested. This was stupid!

"Look, what do you want from me?" Hermione yelled, immediately drowning out the TV. She stood up and narrowed her eyes. "It's not as if we're going to have an animated conversation or something! I don't even know why want a job."

"I want food." Draco responded. Hermione chose to ignore him.

"We're at the opposite ends of the colour wheel." she said. "It's like ... I'm blue and you're orange!"

"I don't like orange." Draco said.

"Fine! You're blue and I'm orange!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "If there's one thing about them put together, it's the fact that they DON'T MIX."

"On second thoughts, I don't like blue either. But orange is the better one out of both of them." Draco decided.

"That's not the point, Malfoy!" Hermione interrupted. "The point is that we're completely different! And it doesn't look like you'll need a job anytime soon. So why don't you just fucking leave?"

Draco's eyes grew wide with shock as he gasped. "You said the 'fff' word!" He obviously had no objections to swearing (he sworn like crazy whenever he drank one of Drinky's horribly-tasting-but-effective-hangover drinks), but he had only done it to anger Hermione further.

And anger her he did. "Oh fucking hell, Draco!" Hermione shouted. "Why don't you just conjure yourself some food? Or you too much of a lazy ass to do so?"

"Oh. Nice work, Hermies." Draco smiled, as he conjured up his own salad, drink and chicken schnitzel.

Draco could have sworn that he saw Hermione's eye twitching. "Don't call me that."

"I AM sorry, Hermy-nins." Draco drawled; expecting devil horns to grow out of his silky hair any moment.

"You're pushing it, Malfoy." Hermione said, returning to the TV. The show about the blonde singer and her pretty-boy husband had ended, and instead a show about a male celebrity playing tricks on his other famous friends had come on.

"What would I be pushing, Granger?" Draco smirked. "Being more specific will do you wonders."

The doorbell rang and Hermione got up, glaring at Draco. She answered the door to find the pizza boy.

"That will be 2 Galleons and 12 sickles." the pizza boy said, holding up his hand. Hermione handed him the money and thanked him. _(A/N: I don't know how much pizza costs over there, but here it usually costs around $11 if you get it delivered)_

She went to the kitchen, collected a plate, poured herself a drink and then continued watching the show, ignoring Draco.

When dinner was finished and the dishes were done, Hermione took a shower and changed into her nightgown. She went into her room and sat down on her bed. Draco had changed, but not showered - Hermione wouldn't let him 'pollute' her bathroom. He entered Hermione's bedroom.

"Where's my bed?" he asked as Hermione started dragging a brush through her hair. He had hoped that when he had seen his stuff on the couch, it was only there because it had just been there randomly.

"Non-existent." Hermione replied. "You're sleeping on the couch."

"I'm your bodyguard, though. I should be sleeping somewhere near you that's comfortable so that if duty calls - goodness forbid if it does - then I'll be able to spring to your defense comfortably." Draco said in a calm voice. "I suggest a bed in this room. Or even THE bed in this room ... we could get well acquainted under the same covers." Draco raised an eyebrow suggestively. Hermione looked disgusted - which suited Draco fine.

"On the couch, Malfoy." Hermione said. "The couch is as close as you're going to get."

"Fine; but don't blame me if somebody attacks you and I'm not springing up comfortably." Draco replied, setting himself down onto the couch. Hermione waved her wand and her bedroom door closed.

"Stupid git." she muttered as she extinguished her light.

Draco pulled the covers up to his chest and let out a sigh. He had gone from his warm, squishy king size bed in the Malfoy Manor to a couch in a mudblood apartment in one day. He groaned and then turned over.

"Stupid cow." he muttered as he fell asleep.

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**A/N:** Well there you have it - the second chapter to the story! REVIEW, everybody, REVIEW! I hope that you all liked the chapter ... the third one might come a little later, as school starts yet again and I will most probably get loaded with homework.

Here are a few thank you's and (pulls out packets of chocolate and trays of cupcakes) imaginary chocolates and cupcakes to all who reviewed for the last chapter! So, if you read your name here, you can claim your imaginary chocolate and cupcake:

**ChristiLynn**, **thehopeconspiracy**, **Jexi**, **IceCrystal**, **keys3303**, **SlytherinSweetie**, **Sarah**, **alison**, **XxPaDfOoTiExX**, **Cinderbrat**, **Paradise-Unknown**, **XXXpinkkitty5467**, **Caboodle**, **Pure Sunshine.** and **caela**. You all get imaginary chocolate and cupcakes – hurrah!

For this chapter, I will be rewarding people with imaginary strawberries and whipped cream. :)

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

**--Look at moiye, ploise!--**


	3. French Lessons and Meetings in the Dark

**The Bodyguard**  
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influential Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Any entertainment programs or movies mentioned do not belong to me. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Note:** I must warn you that the word 'shag' and other variations of it will be used a LOT in this chapter ... So be careful!

**THE BODYGUARD**

Chapter 3 - French Lessons and Meetings in the Dark

Sunlight filtered through the bedroom window of Hermione Granger's London apartment. She stirred in her sleep as brightness eventually enveloped the room. The alarm clock on her nightstand ticked to 06.30 and then started to scream.

"Get up, girly!" it yelled through its speaker holes. Hermione groaned. "Get up, it's 6.30am! Get up, get up, get up, get up, you lazy cow!" Hermione sat up in bed drowsily. That stupid alarm clock had woken her every morning like that ever since she had received it as a birthday present from Harry - who she thought was giving her a not so subtle indication of her punctuality status.

"Shut up." Hermione moaned at the clock.

"There you go! Up and at them," She was sure that if the clock had eyes, it would have winked at her.

Getting out of bed, Hermione walked to the bathroom that was joined to her bedroom and her living room.

Normal things were running through her head. She wondered if Harry had recuperated from his break with Olivia, and if Tammy had decided to go back to Mark. She thought about the groceries and whether she needed to go to the supermarket that day. Then her mind wondered over to work.

Did she have any extra filing to do? Did she have that meeting with the head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation? No, wait, that was scheduled for tomorrow ...

Of course, with all these distracting thoughts running around her head trying to get attention, Hermione didn't even remember Draco and his new job. She didn't notice that Draco was now her bodyguard. She didn't notice that Draco was now living with her.

But she did notice that Draco was using the shower ... and that she had just walked in on him.

"Arrrggghhhhhh!" Hermione screamed, stumbling blindly backwards as she tried to cover her eyes with a nearby towel. Draco, however, seemed non-pulsed, and acted as if being walked in on when he was in the shower was a normal thing.

"Really, Granger, if you wanted to see me wet and naked, you could have just asked." Draco said from behind the heavily fogged up glass. Hermione ignored him and tripped over Draco's pile of clothes which he had left on the bathroom floor.

"Arrghh!" Hermione yelled again, losing her balance slightly and repulsed at the fact that she had touched his clothes at all.

"Oi, mind the clothes!" Draco yelled over the pitter patter of the water. Hermione just gulped, covered her eyes completely with the tower and ran off to the kitchen, straight to the sink, not seeing anything but her destination. "Hey! I need that towel!" No response. "Fine! Just walk away and leave me to walk around your house naked." Almost instantly, the towel came flying back into the bathroom.

Draco smirked smugly at himself and continued washing himself.

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Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Seeing Draco with his clothes on was bad enough; so seeing him with none was enough to make her admit herself to St Mungo's.

The kettle whistled and Hermione desperately poured the steaming water into her cup that was sprinkled generously with coffee granules. She needed coffee to deal with that horrifying and scarring experience.

Drinking it quickly, Hermione mused to herself that this was the second cup of strong, black coffee that she had downed in less than two days. She usually only had a cup on bad days ... or days on which she would attempt cooking for the upteenth time.

'Well, I have a good reason for it.' she thought to herself as she drained the cup.

It was then that Hermione finally took in her surroundings. The episode with Draco, the desperation for coffee and the early morning rise had distracted her from actually looking around her apartment. And what she saw was not good.

The kitchen was an absolute mess.

Draco had obviously gotten up in the middle of the night, looking for a snack. What he had found was an apple (the core was unstably balanced on the top of the overflowing rubbish pile), a muesli bar (the wrapper was lying on the kitchen table along with some 30 million crumbs) and a cup of milk (the cup was next to the wrapper and the remaining milk inside of it had gone off).

Different drawers in the kitchen had been opened and not closed; Draco had seemingly gone in search of spoons and was victorious. Why? The empty bowl that was flecked with specks of chocolate ice cream (that was now home to a large pack of ants) was also on the table, next to the spoon that Draco had found.

Tea towels were draped around various chairs and kitchen appliances, all with smudges of unknown substances. There was a plate that was covered in lettuce, tomato and chicken scraps; crumbs dotting random places of the plate as well as another colony of ants.

Draco was going to die.

"MALFOY!" Hermione yelled from her position at the sink.

"What?" he asked, with a whiney tone in his voice.

"Come here, now!" Hermione said, practically slamming the cup into the sink and filling it with water.

"Always like it when you're in charge, hrm?" Hermione could almost feel the sneer in the sentence. "I can see the dominatrix emerging already."

Hermione clenched her teeth and opened her mouth again.

"Come here!" she shouted again.

"No." Draco replied.

'Oh my God! What a bastard ...'

"Come fucking here!" she shouted and she heard the footsteps of Draco. "Stupid bugger," She said to herself.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, stepping into the kitchen.

'Annoying, immature -- oh ...' Hermione had turned slack-jawed and mentally crashed as she saw Draco walking into the kitchen, dripping wet with nothing on except a towel wrapped around his waist. Obviously his toned body and tall stature was something worthy of committing first degree murder over for any other normal woman, but Hermione grasped onto her state of mind desperately. She gave a funny little noise which was a sorry excuse for a clearing of the throat.

"You know I could always change to mood lighting and change YOU into something skimpier than what I'm wearing ..." Draco said suggestively.

Hermione cleared her throat again, and this time it was stronger and more defined. She seemed to have remembered that this was Draco Malfoy and that ogling him was not going to kill him.

'If only,' Hermione thought to herself as she scowled at Draco's comment.

"You know I could always change my mood and change you into something so unrecognisable that they'd have to bury you with a name tag that says 'Thing'." Hermione drew out silkily. Draco shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well you'd have to kill me first. And to kill me means that you would have to have some --" Draco held up both of his hands and wriggled his fingers (A/N: Think spirit fingers) "-- hands on experience."

"Over my dead body," Hermione replied with a not so original line.

"I thought that it was mine ..." Draco said as Hermione crossed her arms.

"That can be arranged." Hermione said, raising an eyebrow into the air as well, but this time keeping it up. It seemed like a sort of challenge.

"How about some snogging?" Draco asked, moving forward on the kitchen tiles slowly.

"Pardon me?" Hermione asked. She was disgusted at this straight-out approach, but for some reason she had expected Draco to have beaten around the bush for quite some time; drawing out all the fun as he teased her and brought his libido up.

"I've heard I'm a pretty good kisser." Draco said, the customary devilish look disappearing, and an inappropriate innocent one appearing.

"I don't know how that relates to--"

"I could always snog you to death," Draco suggested, knowing teasing her like this would not only make her blush, but also repulsed beyond belief. Brilliant.

"I don't think so." Hermione replied firmly.

"Not one for foreplay?" Draco winked and Hermione raised both her eyebrows in a 'oh, please' look.

"If you're not up for the snogging, we could always just skip to the shagg--"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Get back onto the topic, won't you?"

"You're the one who called me in here." Draco pointed out. Hermione sighed in frustration.

"Just ... Shut up and listen." Hermione was never going to admit to Draco that she was wrong in anything.

"Me-ow." Draco added and Hermione used all her self control to not strangle him on the spot.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked Draco, who looked back at her with a sort of smugness and feigned innocence.

"Whatever did you mean?" Draco asked her, a fake look of concern crossing his face.

"This!" Hermione gestured to the mess around her and Draco shrugged; both of them knew that he had trashed Hermione's kitchen when she had fallen asleep last night.

Draco sighed. "Dear mudblood, you may have a sanitation problem, but that's no reason to pin it onto a guest in your very humble abode." Hermione felt her face turning red with anger and indignation. This idiot was insulting HER ... In HER house, about HER sanitation and about HER house. And HE was the guest!

"You and I both know that you messed up my kitchen." Hermione said slowly, trying not to lose her temper. "So that means that YOU will go and clean it up now."

"Listen, Granger." Draco said in an equally slow tone. "I'm the guest in this house. So that means that YOU will go and clean it up now."

"Clean it up, Malfoy."

"No. You do it."

"Clean it up, Malfoy."

"No. You do it."

"Clean it up, Malfoy."

"No. You do it."

"ARGH!" Hermione shouted. She was on the verge of tearing her hair out. Draco watched her silently but happily. "Listen, you're hired to work for me. So work for me!"

"I was hired to protect you from dangerous people. Not from dangerous bacteria." Draco replied.

"You made the mess. So clean it up. It's not that hard to take in." Hermione said, trying to talk some sense into him.

"Speaking of which ... You could always just die from happiness when I show you something that's really hard, but is something that you would want to take in." Draco said in his scoundrel-like way to her and Hermione looked at the ceiling angrily.

"I'd probably end up dying from laughter," Hermione said to nobody in particular. Draco scowled at her and Hermione's voice rose. "Just ... Just clean the mess. I'm going to get ready for work." Hermione walked out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. She really needed a holiday.

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Draco, of course, had only put up that argument to make Hermione angry. Obviously, it had worked. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have bothered. But that was Hermione ... and annoying her was always fun.

Smirking to himself, Draco got out his wand, muttered a few choice words and instantly the kitchen was clean and tidy yet again.

As he entered the living room to sit upon the couch, he noted that Hermione was an extremely tidy person. She seemed like some sort of neat freak. A control freak.

"Or just a freak," Draco said, as he played around with the tassels on one cushion. "Are you done yet, Granger?" he yelled.

"Shut up, you irredeemable pompous ass!" Hermione shouted back.

'Well at least she's not dead.' Draco thought, twirling the tassels with his finger. 'If she was, then I think they would have docked my pay a little

"If you need some help, then I'd be happy to assist you." Draco yelled again, watching the tassel tighten from all the twirling. "You could finally start your hands-on experience ..."

"Bite me!" Hermione yelled back, but she instantly knew after that she had said it that it had been a bad decision to say that.

"You're giving me permission?" Draco's eyes lit up. "Wow, now it can be legal!"

"What exactly do you mean by 'it', then?" Hermione asked.

"How about a demonstration?" Draco asked, smirking yet again.

"Quiet, you," Hermione said as she came out of the bedroom, gripping her wand. "Alright, let's go."

"My place or stay here?" Draco asked in a sexy voice.

"Careful, Ferret Boy," Hermione said, opening the door. "You can very easily get fired. You're walking on eggshells." Draco seemed confused about this muggle saying.

"But wouldn't eggshells break?" he asked, scrunching up his chiselled face.

"My point exactly," Hermione replied, locking the door and heading for the broken phone booth.

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The office that morning was in a quiet, sleepy sort of buzz. Tammy was already sitting at her usual desk, writing on a paper plane that was stamped 'Ministry of Magic'.

"Morning Tam," Hermione smiled. Tammy smiled back and winked at Draco.

"Morning Hermies. Morning Draco," Tammy said; Draco's name rolling off of her tongue.

"Any messages for me?" Hermione asked as she mentally rolled her eyes - Draco had stepped forward and kissed Tammy's hand, who seemed to be completely smitten with Draco. "Tammy!"

Tammy snapped out of her daze. "What?"

"Messages?" Hermione repeated, reminding herself to kick Draco later on.

"Oh, right. There's none." Tammy reported, immediately going back to Draco after she had finished her sentence.

"Great to know," Hermione said, her comment falling upon deaf ears. Draco had managed to get his lips right next to Tammy's right ear lobe, and he was whispering.

"Why, Mr Malfoy, that's very lewd of you." Tammy purred and Draco chuckled softly. Hermione decided to conduct an experiment.

"I bought a new outfit yesterday." she said. Tammy and Draco hardly noticed her. "The shoes cost 400 Galleons." The two of them carried on.

"Ms Harding, you seem to be taking these suggestions quite easily." Draco whispered.

'This is ridiculous!' Hermione thought to herself, practically throwing her arms up into the air. 'How the heck am I supposed to work if my secretary is too busy getting conversationally shagged? And what about this supposed 'bodyguard?' I swear he is bloody useless!'

"So yeah, I decided to shoot him but I realized that a gun wasn't good enough. Instead, I got out my wand and then shot all the Unforgivable Curses at him. Then I killed him and feasted on the gooey insides of his head. Then I proceeded to shag Harry so senseless that he didn't know where he ended and where I began." Hermione said in a casual. The entire office was staring at her now, wondering which cliff she had fallen off. Harry's head appeared from a cubicle, his face turning tomato red.

"Nice work, mate!" Gary Tanner said, elbowing Harry's side.

"I-I-" Harry stuttered, looking like he was about to faint from embarrassment.

"Did someone say 'shag?' " Draco perked up from his conversation with Tammy.

'Indirect shagging of Draco and Tammy with office watching: 2,' Hermione noted to herself.

"Well, did you, Grangie?" Draco asked. Tammy giggled girlishly.

"Back to work," Hermione replied, knowing that if she answered his question then she would have never lived it out to Draco.

"Je vous parlerai plus tard, beau." Draco drew out silkily, before following Hermione into her office.

"Je vous parlerai plus tard, beau?" Hermione asked Draco incredulously.

"Why, Granger, I'd never thought that you would come across something that you didn't know the meaning of!" Draco smirked. "What I said means --"

"I know what it means!" Hermione replied haughtily.

"Then tell me, if you're so confident." Draco stuck out his tongue childishly.

"It means 'I will speak to you soon, beautiful'. So there." Hermione stuck out her tongue too.

"Since when did you learn French?" Draco asked her, withdrawing his tongue. "I wouldn't imagine you as the French type."

"What; only stuck up, aristocratic people who have no souls do a different language over the summer?" Hermione shot back.

"Last time I checked, Potter didn't know how to speak French." Draco said.

"Why are you being so childish?" Hermione asked him, stomping over to her desk. Only Draco Malfoy could make her this angry, and he had succeeded yet again.

"Why are you being like yourself?" Draco asked back. As soon as he had finished his sentence, Harry stormed into the room, opening the door with such force that it could have been ripped off of its hinges.

"Hermione, I assure you that we did NOT sleep with each other!" he said, the door rebounding off of the wall and closing, much to disappointment of the rest of the office.

"Harry, I--" Hermione tried, but Harry seemed to have decided to plead his case first without any interruptions.

"I know that night at the Hogshead--"

"HYPOCRITE!" Tammy yelled.

"-- was awkward and something was happening, but seriously, Hermione!" Harry stopped to take in a breath.

"Harry, listen to me!" Hermione shouted, ignoring a smug and smirking Draco.

"No, Hermione, listen to ME!" Harry protested, and Hermione fell limply back into her seat, admitting defeat. Harry took a deep breath and started talking rationally.

"I know that we were really close to ... you know ... but seriously, it does not mean that we DID ... you know ..." Harry said uncomfortably.

"Harry! He's right here!" Hermione interrupted. She had spied Draco holding a very interested stare.

"Oh, don't mind me Granger. Pothead," Draco said, acknowledging the both of them. "This could come in handy one day."

"Get out, Malfoy!" Hermione said, pointing to the closed door.

"But I am your bodyguard, Miss Granger!" Draco replied. "I am here to spring comfortably (or uncomfortably; depends if you still want me to sleep

on the couch) to your defense if Pothead here is actually a Blast Ended Skrewt in disguise ... which I heavily do NOT doubt."

"Just get out. Don't you have some visual shagging to do with Tammy?" Hermione asked.

"Ahh, indeed I do." Draco said, opening the door. "Nous parlerons des arrangements de sommeil plus tard ..." Hermione narrowed her eyes and Draco went to join Tammy.

"Was that Spanish?" Harry asked cluelessly.

"French," Hermione corrected him.

"What did he say?" Harry pressed on.

"I'll tell you later." Hermione replied.

"Ok. Good. But Hermione, you need to understand that we DIDN'T ... do the dirty deed, ok?" Harry said in a patronizing tone.

"Say it, Harry." Hermione prodded.

"What?"

"Say the word with me, Harry." Hermione said. This time she was the one with the patronizing tone. "Sh-agg-ing. Shagging. SHAGGING!"

"WHAT?" Harry was dumbfounded.

"You're over 20, Harry. It's not a crime to say 'shagging', you know." Hermione said. "Listen to me! SHAG, SHAG, SHAGGING, SHAGG-ABLE, THE SPY

WHO SHAGGED ME, SHAGGING SOMEONE, SHAG, SHAG, SHAG!" Hermione sniggered inwardly. She liked making Harry stutter and nervous. It was actually quite fun and a bit unlike her usual straight-up, no-nonsense studious girl.

"Granger, if you do intend on shagging Potter, could you please reserve the screaming for me?" Draco's voice wafted through the door.

"Harry, please just murder him now. I've got no energy left." Hermione gripped Harry's arm painfully. "I assure you that nobody can prove anything

... We'll just make him disappear." Harry laughed and Hermione frowned; she actually thought she had been serious for a little while.

"Sorry, Hermies," Harry said. "I would love to, but my conscience wouldn't let me."

"It's Draco Malfoy. My conscience has been telling me to try since I ever met him." Hermione replied. "And by the way ... the thing about the shagging. I only said it to get Malfoy's attention. He's an incompetent worker, if anything."

"Oh." Harry blinked. "So you weren't actually thinking that we had shagged?" Hermione grinned at Harry use of the 'sha' word.

"I'm smarter than that. I thought you of all people would know that." Hermione shrugged.

"Yeah, well ..." Harry trailed off and gave a boyish grin to the indignant look on Hermione's face. "I guess I'll get back to work." Harry leant over and kissed Hermione on the cheek before going back to his cubicle.

Hermione stood dumbfounded like Harry had before.

'What was that?' she asked herself as her cheek tingled. 'This isn't normal, this isn't ...'

"God, being around Malfoy has gone to my head." Hermione said out loud, dismissing the peck as just that - a friendly kiss on the cheek. Harry had been her best friend for ages, and he was more like a brother than a boyfriend. That issue in the Hogshead was just a rift in the usual balance. A very bad rift. "MALFOY!" Well, she wasn't going to pay Draco to find different ways to inadvertedly shag Tammy ...

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After another day of work had been done and sought through (with Draco standing behind Hermione for countless hours as he tried to look down her top, purely for the sake to piss her off), Hermione and Draco both apparated back to Hermione's apartment.

Draco's stuff was still sitting on the messy couch, and Hermione pulled a face at the scene. She ignored it, however, and headed for the fridge.

Draco jumped onto the couch and collapsed onto it, sighing happily that he didn't have to stay stiffly behind Hermione anymore.

"I'm going to take a shower." Hermione said, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of water. The fridge had long been ransacked by Draco, and it seemed that Hermione needed once again to order out for Chinese food ... except this time she wasn't going to be alone and wishing that she could have gone clubbing instead.

"I'll join you." Draco said as casually as she had, scrambling up.

"Drop dead." Hermione said, entering her bathroom and locking both doors.

"I prove to be quite useful in the shower," Draco smirked for the countless time that day. "Helping you wash in those hard to reach areas ..."

Hermione leaned her head against the shower wall and rolled her eyes.

'Murder is still illegal in Britain.' she repeated to herself. It was probably the only thing that stopped her from actually punching Draco senseless.

"Fine, you won't have the pleasure of the Draco experience." Draco said, holding up both hands (not that Hermione could see them) before walking off to make another mess in the kitchen.

That night, after finishing dinner and getting ready for bed, Hermione got up and turned off the TV. She closed all her curtains and secured her windows. She might have had a bodyguard, but he was useless at best. Hermione turned off the light in the kitchen and turned on the light in her bedroom. She noticed that Draco had fallen asleep on the couch, his blankets halfway up his body.

'He doesn't look as much as a git when he's asleep.' Hermione thought absent-mindedly to herself as she watched his chest rise up and down in a steady rhythm. She laughed inwardly. 'He didn't do anything today but stand behind me but he's still sleeping like he's worked twice as hard as me.' Hermione shook her head and turned to leave.

SMACK!

Draco's hand had flown out of the blanket as quick as lightning and gripped onto Hermione's wrist. Hermione nearly fell over in shock, but she didn't (mainly because Draco's grip was really actually quite strong). Peering down at him and trying to wrestle his hand off of her wrist, Hermione say him wearing his familiar smirk.

"Do you always like spying on deliciously good looking men when they're sleeping, Grangie?" Draco asked, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"NO!" Hermione said, still struggling to get his hand off of her.

"Are you sure?" Draco opened his eyes and seemed delighted that she was putting up a fight.

"Yes!" Hermione maintained.

"Is that yes a no?" Draco asked.

"No!" Hermione replied. Draco sneered triumphantly.

"Am I going to get a bed to sleep in from now on?" he asked as he tightened his grip.

"No." Hermione said defiantly. He was a Malfoy and deserved to be treated like a Malfoy. Goodness knew that he acted like one.

"How about now?" he asked again as he squeezed harder.

"No!" Hermione repeated, her wrist growing sorer by the second. In an instant, Draco pulled Hermione onto the couch and flipped her over, so that he was on top of her and inches away from her nose.

"How about now?" he asked in barely a whisper. Hermione gulped. She didn't say anything; she just stared at his stormy grey eyes. "Well, Granger?"

Draco leaned in a little bit. Hermione gulped again and she felt her heart pounding. Draco Malfoy was only centimetres away from kissing her and here she was being nonverbal.

"No." she replied weakly. Suddenly she couldn't hear anything but the pounding of her heart. Everything seemed so surreal.

"How about now?" Draco asked as his face came closer to hers slowly. His lips were closing the gap to hers gradually.

Then the phone rang.

It was then that Hermione realized that she was on the couch in dark with Draco Malfoy on top of her, about to kiss her if she didn't comply with his conditions.

"No." Hermione said, rolling from underneath him. Draco, caught by surprise, felt his grip loosen and Hermione's wrist escaping it. He fell flat on his face onto the floor. Hermione practically ran to the phone, her head buzzing from what just happened. "Hello?"

"Hey, Hermione! It's Tammy." a voice came through the phone.

"Oh, hi, Tammy!" Hermione said, her voice unusually high pitched. She seemed eager to cover up what just happened, even though Tammy probably had no idea that it had even happened. Suddenly, Hermione felt a streak of guilt flow through her. Tammy had obviously shown her interest in Draco, and here she was about to snog him. It wasn't very friend-like.

'It's not your fault. Malfoy wanted to snog you, not the other way around.' The little voice inside of Hermione reassured.

'Yeah, but you won't resisting much, were you?' The other little voice said.

"Are you alright, Hermies?" Tammy asked.

"Hrm?" Hermione asked, caught by surprise. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Just wanted to talk, that's all." Hermione sensed something.

"You don't want to talk, do you?" Hermione asked.

"No." Tammy sighed. "Mark just broke up with me."

"Oh, Tam," Hermione said, feeling even more guilty than before. "What happened?"

"Well, you know how he does the best--"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he decided that I didn't like it as much as somebody else had ... Hermione, he was cheating on me!" Tammy wailed.

"Oh, Tammy ..." Hermione said sympathetically. "Listen to me ... Any man to cheat on you is a stupid idiot who doesn't deserve you! Tammy, you're

a wonderful girl and you shouldn't let that flea bag get to you." Hermione heard Tammy sniffling over the line.

"You really think?" Tammy asked in a blocked up sort of voice. She had evidently been crying.

"I really know." Hermione reassured.

"Thanks, Hermies." Tammy said quietly. "I knew that you could make me feel better."

"No problem, Tam." Hermione smiled. She could tell that Tammy was smiling too. "Listen, how about this weekend we go guy scoping and break a few hearts?"

"You've already broken enough body parts on me, Granger." Draco called from his position on the floor.

"Who was that?" Tammy asked.

"Just the bouncing ferret," Hermione said, throwing Draco a glare. She was glad that he was on the floor after what he had done to her.

"Who?" Tammy asked. She obviously wasn't informed of that fourth year situation.

"Malfoy," Hermione said. Tammy's voice immediately picked up.

"Draco?" she asked.

"The one and only. Thank God." Hermione said, shuddering at the thought of multiple Draco's roaming the world.

"Is he still awake?" Tammy asked.

"Yeah. He's a vampire, remember? Natural light doesn't do any good for him." Hermione quipped.

"Do you think that I could talk to him?" Tammy asked. Hermione immediately stiffened. The wave of guilt was no fresher than ever.

"Erm, if you want." Hermione said shakily. Now she felt really bad. "MALFOY!" Draco got up and rubbed his head.

"What?" He asked in a whiney tone.

"Tammy wants to talk to you." Hermione reported. Draco came over and looked at the telephone.

"Where is she?" Draco asked. "Don't tell me you've hidden her in the cupboard ..."

"She's on the phone." Hermione handed over the receiver and Draco looked at it, confused. "You put it to your ear like this and then you talk. You can hear her from those holes." Hermione put the phone up to Draco's ear.

"HELLO?" Draco yelled. He obviously didn't know that the phone was actually rather sound effective.

"She can hear you, Malfoy." Hermione said dead-pan.

"Shut up, Granger." Draco said. "Hello Tammy ..."

"Put the phone back in that place when you've finished." Hermione said, pointing to the phone. "I'm going to bed."

When Draco had finished his conversation with Tammy that involved many one liners in French and soothing words, he put the phone back down and headed for the couch.

'That's a funny device.' Draco thought to himself as he glanced at the phone once more.

Settling down onto the couch, Draco's head hit the pillow uncomfortably. He recounted how minutes before Hermione had been laying in that same spot. And how close he had came to kissing her. He really didn't want to kiss her ... he just wanted to make Hermione so weak at the knees by his kissing abilities that pretty soon she would have been working for him, and not the other way around. (A/N: And seriously, trust me on this one. He doesn't REALLY want to kiss her for pleasure ... yet. evil grin)

Speaking of the couch, Draco got up from his spot and then walked silently to Hermione's room. She was sleeping peacefully in her bed, her hair going in all different directions. Moonlight shone through a crack in the curtains, and the only noise there was the steady breathing of Hermione and the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. An evil thought popping into his head, Draco headed for Hermione's bed. It was a Queen size, and Draco wondered why she hadn't offered the bed to him. He was, after all, Draco Malfoy. And he should be treated like one.

Slowly pulling back the covers, Draco carefully climbed into bed. He knew that when Hermione woke up, she would be in for a huge shock. He pulled the covers back up, and Hermione stirred in her sleep, turning over to face him. He was relieved when he noticed that she was still asleep.

Smirking at his ingenious plan, Draco closed his eyes and fell asleep comfortably for the first time since he had arrived at Hermione Granger's apartment.

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**A/N:** Ok, finally, I'm done! No more scrolling down the page going "Oh my goodness ... she wrote MORE?!". This chapter should keep you going for another week or two before I update. School's kinda crazy now ... they change our timetables and now I'm just going to wondering around the halls of my school, confused. In the meantime ... REVIEW!!!! I love reviews, and this time for pressies, I think that imaginary chocolate truffles are appropriate!

For those who don't do French (I don't either, but thank goodness for the miracles such as online translators), 'Nous parlerons des arrangements de

sommeil plus tard' means 'We will speak about the sleeping arrangements later'. For those who already did French (or also used an online translator), some clever readers would have realised that they did talk about sleeping arrangements later ...

A sort of cliffie, maybe? Hrm, I'm not sure, but hey, next chapter something interesting is happening. :) secretive grin

A huge, huge, huge, HUGE thank you to the people who reviewed the last chapter!! As a result, you will all get imaginary strawberries and cream.

So, come to collect your treats if you're:  
**Jexi**, **hotskittles**, **Meg**, **SlytherinSweetie**, **BrandyBuckBeak**, **CinderBrat**, **Dumdumditz23**,** Caboodle**, **Sophie**, **Chicka**, **iriscristata**, **insanemaniac**,** MissMills**, **Madnutterfan**,** alien726**, **Paradise-Unknown**, **crazychick-1027**, **IceCrystal**, **Panther's-Princess** and **CocoaFlavourPunk.**

Keep reviewing to get your imaginary truffles!

More to come in the saga of 'The Bodyguard'!

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

--**Look at moiye, ploise!**--

P.S. Heya Sophie :P


	4. Parental Woes and Flying Sparks

**The Bodyguard**  
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influencal Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Any entertainment programs or movies mentioned do not belong to me. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**THE BODYGUARD**

Chapter 4 - Parental Woes and Flying Sparks

It was yet another day in the apartment of Granger. The usually brightly shining sun was covered up by blankets of grey clouds, which were spitting out rain. Outside, it was a cold, miserable day. Definitely not one that somebody would want to leave their nice, warm, cosy beds for the winter like atmosphere.

Speaking of beds ...

Hermione Granger groaned as she rolled over in her own bed. She was half-asleep, and she knew that it was cold outside. It was days like these that Hermione dreaded her job. The closed curtains didn't have yellow buckets of sunlight spilling through them. There was barely any light at all.

The alarm clock on her bedside table clicked to 06.30 and once again started yelling.

"Get up, you miserable cow! I don't care if it's practically the North Pole out there; GET UP, YOU LAZY BUGGER!' it yelled through its speaker holes. Hermione moaned and opened her dry mouth.

"Shut up, you stupid piece of crap," she said, sitting up in bed.

"Hmph! There's no need for name calling - that's just plain rude." the alarm clock said before silencing completely. Hermione rubbed her forehead and ignored it.

"I have absolutely no idea why I don't throw that thing out." Hermione said to herself, yawning. She felt drowsy and slow-witted.

"Neither do I." a voice said next to her.

'Oh dear God,' Hermione thought, her eyes suddenly becoming the size of saucepans. 'I've gone insane and now I'm hearing voices.'

"Thanks for last night, Granger." the voice continued, dripping with sarcasm. It was probably then that Hermione realized that she hadn't gone insane. It was just a bad nightmare. A very bad and twisted nightmare.

The blanket was twisted and crinkled. The bed sheets were worn. Hermione gulped as her slow mind tried desperately to figure out who the owner of the mystery voice was. Her eyes decided to start at the foot of the bed and travelled from there. Two crossed legs. A stomach. A chest. A neck. An ugly and unfortunately very familiar face.

How would you have reacted; if you saw Draco Malfoy lying next to YOU in YOUR bed with elegantly messy hair and only in pyjamas? Well Hermione did what any other sane and intelligent Gryffindor would have done: she screamed and then jumped out of bed.

"AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!" Draco jumped up from bed as well and started screaming at her.

"AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!" Draco screamed at Hermione.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Hermione yelled.

"WELL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Draco yelled back, wondering why he was screaming. He was, after all, the one who had started this.

"THIS IS MY BED!" Hermione shouted back.

"WHY ARE WE SCREAMING SO MUCH?" Draco shouted.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Hermione screamed, frantic.

"WHY DON'T WE JUST STOP?" Draco screamed as well.

"OK!" Hermione said. They both stopped.

Hermione cleared her now hoarse throat. She glared at him and crossed her arms.

Draco scowled at Hermione with a hint of a mischievous look on his face.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Hermione asked. She wanted answers, and she demanded that get them.

"I think about a lot of things. Like for instance, last night I was thinking about fuc--"

"Drop dead, Malfoy." Hermione cut in dryly. "Answer my question: What were thinking when you decided to jump into my bed?"

"I told you; I think about a lot of things." Draco said smugly.

"Well," Hermione said, expecting an apology. She deserved one after all; then again, who wouldn't deserve an apology after they found that ... THING on their bed?

"Well, what?" Draco asked.

"Apologize!" Hermione demanded.

"For what, exactly?" Draco loved to get Hermione angry; and this morning was no exception.

"For goodness' sake, Malfoy!" Hermione spat. "I go to sleep ALONE and then I wake up and find YOU there, of all people!"

"Just because we have animal magnetism doesn't mean that I have to apologize." Draco hmphed.

"Oh, please!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You might as well have woken me up in the middle of the night and shook me senseless before yelling 'I'm here so I can piss you off in the morning!' "

"You're no master of subtlety yourself, you know!" Draco argued. Oooh, this was fun!

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, half indignant and half curious. Draco closed his eyes and started snoring. Hermione's mouth fell open. "I do not snore!"

"Yes you do. It's not really that easy to sleep when you're awoken at 3am in the morning to what you think is Gabriel's Trumpet." Draco said.

"I don't sound like Gabriel's Trumpet!" Hermione protested.

"Not now, you don't. Oh, wait --"

"URGH! Just ... go away and eat or something!"

"Ooh, touchy on the subject?"

"NO! I mean ... no ..."

"Want to get touchy on something else, then?"

"To the kitchen. Now."

"Whatever you say --"

"Thank you!"

"--Mistress ..."

"Hanging on by a thread Malfoy; a thread!"

"Then what are you hanging onto sanity with?"

"Something thicker than a thread,"

"How thick, exactly?"

"If you don't be quiet, I'll have to shove you in the freezer."

"Ahh, some more of that hands-on experience, eh?"

DING DONG!

Hermione and Draco both instantly shut up.

"Hermione? Are you there, love?" a female voice wafted through. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Oh, shit!" she said, pulling her hair back.

"What?" Draco asked.

"It's my mother." she replied. Draco smirked.

"Not big on the maternal types?"

"I love my mother actually," Hermione said primly. "That's an emotion that I wouldn't expect you to know."

"I've gotten variations of it." Draco shrugged.

"Hermione?" the voice called again. Only Hermione Granger's mother would come to visit her daughter at 6.30am in the morning. Draco went to open the door, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Don't answer the door." she said in a threatening tone.

"And why ever not, Grangie?" Draco asked; smugness in his tone.

"I'm not letting my mother see you!" Hermione said. "She already thinks that I'm having a love affair with Harry."

"But you are,"

Hermione groaned and opened her mouth. "Coming, mum! I've just got to ... pack something away."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Where would this be?" Hermione spun him around and pushed him into the general direction of a closed door, must to the protests of Draco. "What are you - Get off of me!"

"Funny; I would have thought that this was some kind of 'hands-on' experience that you were expecting." Hermione grumbled as she opened the door, revealing stacks of spare towels and manchester.

"A closet?" Draco said incredulously. "Oh, no! I'm NOT going into a fucking closet, Granger!"

"Watch the language," Hermione said as she attempted to stuff Draco into the small space. "You're going into the closet. If my mum saw you walking around my house, then she'd think that we're ..."

"All the more reason to stay." Draco smirked. "I don't believe that I've met your mother formally before, Granger."

"And I intend for it to stay that way." Hermione remarked, trying again to stuff him into the closet.

"Well if you want me out of the way, you could have just asked me; instead of trying to stuff me into this tiny space." Draco dusted himself down.

"You don't deserve to be asked." Hermione replied, pointing at the space. "Get in."

"Hermione, do you need any help with that?" Her mother's voice interrupted. "You seem to be taking a while."

"No, mother, that won't be necessary." Hermione said. Then with one quick movement, she managed to shove Draco entirely into the bottom space of the closet and then closed the door before locking it.

"I don't think that this is the best time for me to tell you that I'm claustrophobic." Draco's voice echoed from inside.

"You're claustrophobic?" Hermione asked, mostly in agitation.

"It means that I don't --"

"Look; just sit there, be paranoid and keep quiet. I'm letting my mother in."

"Do you do this to all your guests?" Draco's voice asked.

"Only to the pompous ass ones," Hermione replied as she walked to the door. "Mother! How are you?"

Hermione's mother was a tall, curly haired, average looking woman who was in her 40's. Just like Hermione, She had taken advantage of her willingness and eagerness to learn by studying dental surgery. But she had managed to balance her career with a stable love life; she had met her husband through dental work, and now they both operated the same dentistry as well as both working in it.

Hermione both admired and loved her mother, mainly because she was quite level-headed and logical; teaching Hermione right from wrong but also letting her make her own decisions.

"I'm fine, darling." her mother smiled good-naturedly. Then her face became confused. "Are you alright? I thought I heard that you were talking to someone in here. You seemed to be having some sort of argument."

Even though her mum was still wonderful, she loved a good gossip at heart and had a rather irritating nature of sticking her head into other people's business and then proceeding to pry. Oh well; not everyone can be perfect.

"Hm? Oh, no! I was just ... on the phone." Hermione fabricated quickly.

"Oh, ok," her mother smiled. Hermione sensed that she wasn't quite buying it.

"To Harry." she added. "He er ... h-had a problem with ..." Hermione's eyes desperately scanned her surroundings for inspiration. She spotted a jar of olives sitting on the table; obviously Draco had gotten peckish a few days before and had left it there.

"Yes?" Mrs Granger prompted.

"Olives," Hermione blurted out, nodding her head rapidly. Her mother looked at her slightly incredulously.

"Olives?" Mrs Granger repeated.

"Yeah," Hermione said anxiously. Then a thought struck her. "He's broken up with his girlfriend; Olivia. She left him for a guy called Oliver."

"Oh dear; poor Harry!" Hermione's mum sympathized. She shook her head. "Is he OK?"

"He's making it." Hermione replied. She could see the little wheels turning in her mother's head.

"So HE broke up this Olivia character?" asked her mother in what she hoped was a subtle way.

"I think it was mutual." Hermione shrugged. She didn't really need to mention to her mother that Olivia had managed to transfigure all of Harry's belongings into cow dung, did she?

"Does that mean that Harry thought that it wasn't working out?" Mrs Granger asked non-chalantly as she ran a finger over one of Hermione's tables.

"Where are you getting at?" Hermione sighed. Her mother faked a look of shock.

"Whatever do you mean, Hermie, dear?"

"Where is this conversation going?"

"I was just wondering - in the lightest and most respectful manner - if Harry broke up with Olivia because of ..."

"Me?" Hermione prompted.

"Hermione; you're an attractive girl! You're smart, witty, talented and so many other things!" her mother said, slyly avoiding the topic at hand. "I was just thinking that maybe ... MAYBE - What was that?"

Mrs Granger had been interrupted by a noise which was a combination of scoffing and snorting. It had come from some area near Hermione's bedroom. Hermione closed her eyes, quietly slapped her forehead and swore under her breath.

"It was probably nothing, mum." Hermione said, walking in the opposite direction to her kitchen.

"Are you sure?" Janice asked, looking warily at the bedroom. "It didn't sound like it was nothing."

"Don't worry. I just have a ... PEST problem, that's all." Hermione smiled, opening the fridge door and fishing out some milk. "Would you like some?"

"No, thank you, dear," her mum said as she watched Hermione make herself some cereal. "I've already eaten and I've got to get to the surgery. We're expecting some equipment to arrive today, and those delivery people said that it can come between 6.30 to 9.30. I'll see you later honey bunny." she went over to Hermione and kissed her on the cheek.

"Bye, Mum." Hermione said, scooping some cereal into her mouth. She watched Janice pause in the direction of Hermione's bedroom. "What's wrong?"

"The closet door - it just opened by itself." Mrs Granger said, eyeing the door suspiciously.

"Don't worry, Mum, that door's loose." Hermione said. Her mother looked at her doubtfully. "Look; if it worries you that much, I'll walk you to the door." Her mother agreed and they both walked to the front door.

"That was so silly of me," Mrs Granger laughed. "I think I'm paranoid."

"Maybe," Hermione winked, closing the closet door forcefully.

"Well, goodbye!" Mrs Granger opened the door.

CREAK.

The closet door had opened again and Hermione could hear the faintest sound of Draco chuckling.

"I told you, dear!" Mrs Granger said, retreating outside, looking at the door.

"And I told you, mum, the door is just really loose!" Hermione insisted. "It's just missing a few screws up there." she muttered to herself.

CREAK.

The closet door closed itself with a click. Mrs Granger jumped.

"I think I'll just ..." Hermione's mum pointed at the elevator.

"Nice seeing you again!" Hermione called out chirpily. The closet door opened and then closed.

"You too!" Mrs Granger stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. Instantly, Hermione's bright and happy face was replaced by an angry one as she closed her own door. She went to the closet and pulled the door open.

"What did you think you were doing?" Hermione asked fiercely as she met the image of Draco sitting cross-legged on the floor, smirking up at her.

"Creating some sound effects." Draco shrugged, getting out from underneath the space and dusting himself off. "You better clean down there sometime soon, Granger. Any more bacteria and a new civilisation will be created down there."

"Then why don't you stay down there?" Hermione shot back, picking up her bowl of cereal. "I'm sure that they'll need a supreme leader."

"Ouch, that hurt, Granger," Draco said, feigning a blow to the heart. "Where did you learn to insult like that?"

"I've had plenty of practise with a very worthy victim," Hermione gave Draco a toothy smile and spooned some cereal into her mouth.

"Speaking of which, where IS the Weasel?" Draco asked, looking around Hermione's apartment as if expecting Ron to jump out from behind the couch and shout 'Here I am!' Draco looked back at Hermione, whose face was hard and cold. She set down her bowl.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Hermione said.

"Was it something I said?" Draco asked to nobody in particular.

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Hermione ignored Draco for the rest of the day. It wasn't really his fault that he didn't know that Ron was around anymore, but Hermione somehow expected for him to already know. Besides, it was easier to stay angry at Draco than to apologize to him.

'Where IS Ron, anyway?' Hermione thought to herself as she forcefully dragged her quill across the paper.

'How would I know?' a little voice inside of her head asked.

'Yeah, it's not like he left a note explaining his absence or anything.' the other little voice said.

'It's definitely not your fault, dear.' the first voice reassured.

'Oh, now that's a different topic,' the second voice said. 'I don't see how this ISN'T her fault.'

'We all make mistakes.' the first voice said lightly.

'I didn't say that she has never made one in her entire life.' the second voice said defensively. 'I'm just saying that by this mistake that she made, Ron left. And it doesn't look like he's returning anytime soon, either. Therefore, it's her fault.'

'Don't be so harsh!' the first voice said, coming to Hermione's rescue.

'But you don't disagree with me?' the second voice asked triumphantly.

'Well ...'

"Shut up!" Hermione said out loud, instantly shutting up both voices. It was a good thing that she had sent Draco out to so-and-soingly shag Tammy. If he had stayed, it was certain that he would have said something snide or nasty.

"Do you have a problem with us two talking?" Harry's voice wafted through the door.

"Er ... n-no!" Hermione cried out. "I just ... received an owl."

"And you said 'shut up' when you got it?" Harry asked, confused.

"Um ... yeah." Hermione said weakly. "It's a way of showing that you're shocked or surprised."

"And when has this happened?" Harry pressed on.

"In a movie." Hermione said, feeling rather guilty about lying again that day. "One of those American ones." Well it was true. Hermione vaguely remembered seeing another one of those teenage movies with her 13-year-old niece. She couldn't really remember the title of the movie, but she did remember something about a pretty blonde girl confusing butter as a carb.

"Right." Harry said, before continuing his conversation.

Hermione sighed warily and then looked down at the filing she had been doing before. She decided to read over it.

'Hopefully that will get mind off of Ron.' she thought, picking up the paper.

_Employee No: 9327539_

_Full name: Harding, Ronald_

_Duties: Secretary for Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, being a total asshole and walking out on his two best friends without telling anyone._

_Address: 277 Jerk Lane, London_

_Phone Number: SHUT UP, YOU STUPID VOICES!_

_Employed: Never. Ron was always incompetent and always will b_

Hermione groaned in sorrow and scrunched up the paper. The waste paper bucket came over and gobbled it up.

She really needed a holiday.

Harry decided that he would join Hermione and Draco that day for lunch. Draco had obviously protested and let out a string of remarks about Harry having a pothead and such, but in the end he relented, mainly because Hermione was his employer in a way.

The three of them sat down in the newly opened Sparks Will Fly restaurant in Diagon Alley. Hermione and Harry had ordered a foccacia for the sake of a proper lunch, but Draco had ordered a devils food cake.

"Aren't you going to eat anything decent?" Hermione asked Draco, reminding herself vaguely of her mother.

"I choose what I eat, whenever I want." Draco said. He would have stuck out his tongue if he could. "Besides, this is decent."

"No it's not." Hermione persisted. "It's cake, Malfoy! Who eats cake for lunch?"

"I do." Draco replied.

"Wow, this must be the aristocratic tastes in food coming through then, eh?" Harry asked; an innocent smile on his face. Draco scowled at him and Harry smiled pleasantly back.

"Careful where you stick your nose, Potter." Draco warned.

"I haven't stuck my nose in anywhere, thank you very much." Harry replied primly, taking a sip from his glass of water.

"And that's precisely where it will stay." Draco ordered.

Harry humphed and then took another sip of water. Hermione had ignored all of this (she had grown accustomed to it) and decided to study her surroundings.

The restaurant created a nice mod with its warm orangey-brown colour. It was furnished with wood and had sensible looking chandeliers hanging from its roof (Hermione wasn't sure if chandeliers could ever be sensible, but for some reason she thought that those ones were). There were numerous chairs and tables, all of which were a rich dark chocolate colour. Everything (with the possible exception of the walls and the paintings which hung off of the wall) seemed to be polished and sparkling.

The atmosphere around the restaurant was a busy one. It was lunch time, and all the hungry business women and men and other various creatures had come out for fresh air and some food. Some plump men were laughing in a jolly manner with each other. Five business women seemed to be toasting to a new job. There were even a few children joining their parents for a nice lunch. It seemed like a nice, friendly place to be, even though it might have been a more expensive than the Leaky Cauldron. Then all of a sudden, Hermione saw a suspicious looking character in a black bowler hat and large overcoat looking subtly at her. They were reaching into their jacket pocket and pulling out their wand. Then they raised the wand and opened their mouth to fire a spell.

"WATCH OUT!" Harry and Draco had cried at the same time. They both lunged at Hermione, but only Harry managed to tackle her to the ground. Draco had simply jumped and missed, letting out an "OOF!" when he landed on the ground.

"Stupefy!" Harry cried out, firing the spell with his wand which he had grabbed in less than a second. The red jet of light sped out and went straight for the character. But a waiter had stepped in front of him, unaware of all the action. The spell ricocheted off of a freshly washed dinner plate and then flew back into the direction of Harry.

"Yargh!" Harry ducked under the table to join a sore Hermione.

True to his bad timing, Draco decided to join in on the action and consequently got hit with the stunning spell. He fell right down onto the ground. Well, actually, not quite on the ground. He had fallen right on top of Hermione.

"So much for bodyguard." Hermione mumbled as she managed to shove Draco's cheek off of her forehead.

The entire restaurant was now in a frenzy. Waiters were hiding under tables with equally scared consumers. Children were crying and people were screaming.

"Expelliarmus!" the character's wand flew out of their hand and landed on the plate of one of the jolly plump men.

"Now, really!" the man said from underneath the table.

"Hello to you too, Potter," the character growled, adjusting his bowler hat.

Since practically everyone knew who Harry was, Harry barely even flinched at all. Instead, he raised his arm and went to fire another spell.

"You know, I would react like this too if I saw a suspicious looking guy staring at Hermione," the person continued, emitting a hoarse and hacking laugh. He flicked his bowler hat upwards to reveal one normal eye and another sinisterly revolving one. Harry let his arm flop down.

"Mad-Eye?" Harry asked, shocked, suspicious and incredulous at the same time.

"Got it in one," Mad-Eye said, walking over to their table.

The rest of the people in the restaurant had managed to calm down. The waiters had come up from underneath the tables, the children had stopped crying and the people seemed to realize that everything was going to be alright.

After a few minutes, things started going back to normal. The same warm atmosphere took over again and the chatter grew.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I came to say hello ... and other things." Mad-Eye said dismissively, sitting down. He put his wand back into his cloak with his gnarled hand. "What's that?" Mad-Eye looked underneath the table to find the stunned figure of Draco Malfoy lying next to a stirred, but fine Hermione, who was rubbing her head.

"Mad-Eye Moody!" Hermione cried, getting up and ignoring Draco. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Granger. Retirement's a good life." Mad-Eye said gruffly. He gestured to Draco. "What's he doing here?"

"He's my bodyguard," Hermione sighed unhappily. Both of Mad-Eye's eyes widened and the magical one rolled down to peer at Draco.

"No offense, Granger, but you did a pretty crappy job if you hired him," Mad-Eye growled.

"Oh, trust me, if I was hiring in the first place, my first order would have been to have Malfoy incarcerated." Hermione said, resuming rubbing her head. "Or castrated."

Mad-Eye let out his hoarse laugh again and Hermione smiled weakly.

"What are you doing here?" Harry repeated.

"I told you; I came to say hello and other things." Mad-Eye replied.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I mean --" Mad-Eye reached into his overcoat and pulled out two envelopes, simply titled 'Harry' and 'Hermione' respectively, "-- this."

"What's that?" Harry eyed both letters apprehensively.

"A letter. For each of you," Mad-Eye said, pointing out the obvious.

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked, eyeing the letters in the same fashion as Harry.

"I don't know," Mad-Eye replied truthfully. "All I know is that when I got it, there was a letter attached to it saying to give it to you."

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Harry asked.

"At this point, I think the only thing dangerous about it is what's written in it." Mad-Eye said. "I stripped it clean, searching for any hexes or anything. It's clean."

Hermione's heart was beating. She had a very strange feeling about this letter. It didn't look dangerous at all, but as Mad-Eye had put it, the only thing dangerous about this letter would have been its contents. She took it with trembling hands.

Harry had also taken his, and was now attempting to open it. No such luck.

"You can't open it," Mad-Eye said, watching Harry struggling.

"No, I'm sure I can make it --" Harry said, wriggling the paper.

"No, the letter that came with it said that you can't open it until it allows you too." Mad-Eye said, shoving Draco a little bit with his foot.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, holding the letter up into the light to try and read what was in it.

"I think the letter will let itself open when it wants you to open it." Mad-Eye answered, looking at Harry's glass of water before pulling out his hip flask and drinking from it.

"Do you have any idea of what's in it?" Harry asked, mimicking Hermione.

"Not a clue," Mad-Eye said. "But I do think that maybe the information in it is destructive at this time. Why else would it only let you open it when the time is right? I advise that you be careful with that."

"Thanks, Mad-Eye," both Harry and Hermione said.

"No problem," Mad-Eye waved his gnarled hand unimportantly.

"Now who's up for some lunch?" Hermione asked, smiling warmly as her foccacia arrived and trying to shove the envelope and its contents into the back of her mind.

.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.

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That night after dinner, Hermione sat down on her bed. Draco had come to long ago, muttering something about getting an aspirin for his hangover. It was a good thing for portkeys, otherwise Hermione would have been forced to take Draco home by taxi, or by floo; a mode of travel that Hermione had often disliked.

Hermione turned the envelope over in her hands. Curiosity often got the best of her, but in this case, Hermione didn't have the option of opening the letter. Not yet anyway.

She sighed for about the fifth that day and then stuffed the letter into her nightstand before sliding into bed. She didn't want to think about the letter at all. It would have been easier if it hadn't existed at all, but Hermione knew she had to face the music.

Who was it from? What was in it? Why did it come now and through Mad-Eye Moody? Why did it probably have something to do with Ron?

Hermione turned over in bed and groaned, as if the noise would hopefully smother her thoughts and let her think about something else.

'Maybe there was something good in the letter,' Hermione thought. 'Maybe not.'

Rolling back over to the nightstand, Hermione raised her arm and then turned off the light.

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**A/N:** Another chapter for all! Hopefully you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it!

Oooohhh ... what's in the letter? Is it good? Is it bad? Well, you'll just have to wait until the next chapter. ;)  
  
My apologies if the chapter was shorter than usual - I was supposed to be studying for my Maths yearly, but I decided to take a break - which ended up going for 2 hours. Oops?

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all my lovely reviewers! Every single review counts and every review makes a difference. It makes writing this story worth it. You are all truly special!

And what happens to truly special people? Why, they get rewarded! So, a big huggle and a chocolate truffle to these people: **thehopeconspiracy**, **tRuE2U**, **MissMills**, **SlytherinSweetie**, **CinderBrat**, **Panther's-Princess**, **Meg**, **Callie**, **NitenGale**, **EmeraldFlame**, **inks**, **mionedracoshipper**, **BoredCoed** (who gets two, one for reviewing chappie 1, and one for reviewing chappie 2), **insanemaniac**,** Jexi**, **alien726**, **IceCrystal** and **Han**.

Thank you so very much! Oh, and by the way, a truffle is '1. an underground fungus, considered a delicacy' -- er ... I mean ... '2. a round soft sweet, usually with a chocolate flavour'. That's the one!

I think that for the reviewers of this chapter, that everyone who reviews gets a slice of pizza (vegetarian or meatlovers; you guys can choose)! This gives you guys even more reason to review like crazy people! Mm ... pizza ...

Please excuse me if the next chapter doesn't come in a week's time. It's the worst week this week, with every single day (except for Tuesday, 2nd November) being packed. But amidst all the Maths and P.D./H/P.E. yearlies, is my ... (drum roll, if you will!) **_BIRTHDAY!_** Luckily, it's on Tuesday, so there's no scary test to haunt me. I expect a lot of birthday wishes :), since I AM turning something-teen. Hey; my age is something for me to know and you to find out. ;)

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

**--Look at moiye, ploise!--**


	5. Love is Nothing

**The Bodyguard  
**(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influential Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Any entertainment programs or movies mentioned do not belong to me. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Author's Note:** Do pardon my _Bridget Jones's Diary_ addiction. I recently received the DVD as a birthday present and I've watched the movie about sixty thousand times. As a result, I've gone to quoting the movie, thinking like Bridget and falling in absolute love with Colin Firth. So please overlook the fact that _Bridget Jones _is mentioned a lot in this chapter.

**THE BODYGUARD**

Chapter 5 – Love is Nothing

It had been an entire week since the arrival of the mysterious letter. It was, as far as Hermione was concerned, something that was worthy to be tucked into the back of mind, even though she knew better than that. People often said that ignorance was bliss. Those people had obviously never met Hermione Granger.

Work (if you could call it work) was still the same. It was purely amazing that Draco had managed to shoot out so many different sexually pumped comments. Of course, whenever he did it to Tammy, she laughed so flirtatiously and flipped her hair and exposed her neck and did all of those flirty things. Hermione certainly didn't care about any of these carrying-ons; anything to keep Draco away from her.

Harry knocked on her door.

"Hermies?" his voice called out.

"Come in," Hermione said, not looking up from her filing. Without Draco, things had become more productive and efficient in her office. She could do all her work in blissful silence, without Draco trying to look down her shirt for the sake of it.

"I have Giselle Peaken's file," Harry said, placing it onto her desk. Hermione smiled.

"Thanks, Harry." she said, before returning to her working state. Harry lingered around her desk, playing absent-mindedly with the little trinkets and paperweights on Hermione's desk. She looked up. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Maybe. Not quite sure." Harry shrugged, tracing the edges of a pyramid paperweight which her parents had sent her the year before on their trip to Egypt.

"Is this about the letter?" Hermione asked as she watched Harry move onto a quill that was flecked with black. Eventually, he sat down in the seat opposite Hermione.

"Yeah," Harry said somewhat glumly.

"Did you open it?" Hermione studied Harry closely.

"No." Harry sighed. "It just seems a bit ... odd." Hermione raised an eyebrow, not in an incredulous way, but more of an eager way.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well ... why would somebody send letters addressed to us to somebody else? Why Mad-Eye Moody?" Harry pointed out. All of a sudden, Hermione felt incredibly stupid.

She was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic and when she received a suspicious letter, she was just curious of what the letter held. She hadn't given much thought as to who sent it or why Mad-Eye delivered it. It was very un-Hermione-like. Spending so much time with that stupid bastard Draco was beginning to affect her brain.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and let out a big breath and uttered three words which she hadn't said together in a long time. "I don't know."

Harry's arched eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Excuse me?" he asked, leaning forward. If he could have extended his ear, he would have. "What did you say, Miss Granger?"

"Quiet, you," Hermione said playfully, pointing a finger at him. Harry smirked, but it was wiped off of his face after a little bit.

"What do we do with it?" he asked, eyes wondering absent-mindedly around the room. He took off his glasses and started rubbing his eyes. "This is ridiculous! Hermione; we're in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic and we've got no idea on what we're going to do with an item that probably contains dark magic."

"Stripped," Hermione said, leaning back into her chair. Harry looked up, confused.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, obviously thinking that Hermione had meant something else.

"Moody stripped the letter for us." Hermione reminded a now very embarrassed looking Harry.

"Oh, yes. Stripped the _letter_, yes," Harry mumbled. He cleared his throat awkwardly and then stood up. "Well. I've got work to do."

"And you better go and do it; otherwise you won't have a job tomorrow." Hermione smiled. Even though Harry was at the ripe old age of 23, he could still transform into that pubescent teenage boy that he was back at school.

Hermione gave Harry a light shove and Harry flashed her a quick smile before walking out of her office. Returning back to the squishy comfort of her chair, Hermione started sorting through the ever growing pile of papers on her desk.

'I have to stop thinking about this stupid letter.' Hermione thought to herself as she filled out some details on Giselle Peaken's file.

'Don't worry, dear, it's natural to think about it.' A soothing voice said inside her head.

'No it's not.' The other voice chimed in. Hermione grunted slightly. 'Don't grunt at me!'

'Stop being so stupid! Hermione's just curious.' The first voice defended.

'Curiosity killed the cat.' The second voice bit back.

'And satisfaction brought it back.' The first voice replied, with smugness in its tone.

'Shut up.' Hermione thought. The two voices stopped conversing and fell silent.

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It was lunch time yet again, and Hermione rubbed her eyes after doing so much filing and other chores. It seemed that Brian Poulty's file took longer than one would have anticipated.

Looking out the window, Hermione sighed. It was days like these that she wished that she was one of those people outside, enjoying herself. Being cooped up in the office wasn't really fun, especially when you could be outside sitting at a table under an umbrella eating lunch with girlfriends whilst people buzzed about. Or she could at least walk around with Harry or somebody as she slowly devoured an ice-cream and emitted mindless chit-chat.

But after that previous experience at the Sparks Will Fly restaurant in Diagon Alley ended up being rather disastrous and resulted in a fainted Draco, a mysterious letter and the return of Mad-Eye Moody, Hermione decided that it would be better to eat in for a little while. At least then, she would have less chance of somebody filing a law suit against her.

There was a knock on the door and Kiki the lunch girl entered.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. How may I help you today?" Kiki asked in her posh English accent.

"How many times do I have to ask, Kiki?" Hermione smiled warmly. "Just call me Hermione."

"I don't wish to start these kinds of informalities." Kiki said simply. "You are my boss, and it would be unprofessional of me to treat you as otherwise."

"Oh, alright then, Kiki," Hermione sighed.

"Now, what would you like for today's lunch?" Kiki got out her notepad.

"I'll have a cheese and ham sandwich today, please; with a gourmet iced coffee, thanks." Hermione said pleasantly. She didn't usually order the gourmet iced coffee (it contained some 3000 calories per mouthful), but she was stressed and what she needed was some stress relief. And besides, Hermione could afford it. She had a naturally fast metabolism, and so she could binge on chocolate and tarts and all of those other fattening things more than Bridget Jones herself and keep her nice figure.

"I'll be right back, Miss Granger." Kiki exited Hermione's office and Hermione stretched. She deserved a break after all that filing and hard work.

A few minutes later, Kiki returned with the sandwich and the coffee. She seemed to be flushed.

"Are you OK, Kiki?" Hermione asked, removing herself from her squishy chair.

"Erm … I think so." Kiki blushed as she handed Hermione her sandwich and coffee.

"What happened?" Hermione said, setting the food down onto the table.

"Do forgive me, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid that I have to be casual to explain to you properly." Kiki said.

"Go for it." Hermione grinned.

"Some guy just hit on me!" Immediately, Kiki's voice changed to that of a bubbly English 20-something woman. Hermione started smirking.

"Who was it; out of curiosity?" Hermione asked.

"He was so hot." Kiki said. "He's really tall –"

"Ooh …" Hermione giggled.

"—Fantastic bone structure," Kiki continued.

"Nice!" Hermione added.

"—A gorgeous body," Kiki said.

"Really?"

"And he had to most brilliant blonde hair." Kiki concluded. Hermione's interest instantly wavered.

"Stormy grey eyes?" Hermione asked in a somewhat bored voice.

"Like a pensieve." Kiki sighed.

"_Kiki!_" A voice called out before Hermione could reply. Kiki shook her head, as if to clear it up and then stood up abruptly.

"Oh, dear," Kiki said, looking worried. "I must have overlooked Mr Larson in the lunch orders. I have to go."

"See you tomorrow, then," Hermione said. Kiki smiled and then left Hermione's office.

Just as Kiki left, Draco swaggered into Hermione's office like another form of Daniel Cleaver.

"Ooh; lunch!" Draco exclaimed as he swiped Hermione's sandwich.

"Oi!" Hermione said grumpily, trying unsuccessfully to retrieve her food. "That's mine!"

"Finders keepers," Draco shrugged as he took a bite out of the sandwich.

"Fine, you ass. But if you wanted a sandwich, you could have just ordered one from Kiki." Hermione lowered her voice. "Or maybe you could have hit on her shamelessly like before."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, ham collaborating with the cheese in his mouth.

"Why did you go and hit on Kiki like that?" Hermione asked, rounding on Draco.

"I might be a sex god, Granger, but really – even _I'm_ not that shameful." Draco replied before attempting to take a sip of Hermione's iced coffee (she had luckily grabbed it just in time).

"Shameful in what context? In the sense that it's shameful to hit on Kiki? Or it's shameful to lead poor Kiki on like that?" Hermione asked, setting the coffee onto a spot on the table behind her. Draco stopped chewing.

"Listen, Granger. Who said that it was shameful to hit on this Kiki character in the first place?"

"It is if you don't even know her name properly." Hermione crossed her arms.

"And two," Draco continued, clearly ignoring Hermione, mainly because she was right, "who said that I was leading Kiki on in the first place?"

"Nobody!" Hermione's voice rose. "It's just a matter of morals – why would you try and pick Kiki up when you're clearing too busy sleazing on Tammy?"

"I do not sleaze." Draco said seriously. Hermione scoffed. "It's not my fault that women love me."

"Oh, please!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "'I don't sleaze'? Seriously, Malfoy, get a grip of yourself!"

"I'm a sex god. Not a sleaze."

"Not egotistical either, it seems." Hermione remarked sarcastically.

"Of course not," Draco said, running his hand through his silky blonde hair. He raised an eyebrow. "But if you ever do want to find out if I'm really a sleaze or a sex god … you could always just ask. No need to use Kiki and Tammy as pawns in your twisted game of chess."

"Well there's no need to use sex talk as a twisted way to cover up the truth about your sex life."

"And what would that be?" Draco asked Hermione, with a half snarl on his face as well as being intrigued. Even though snarls weren't usually attractive, Draco managed to pull it off and looked rather appealing for any other girl. But Hermione wasn't the least bit interested.

"That you're just all talk." Hermione said. She even knew that she was utterly wrong, but it was the best thing that she could come up with on the spot like that. Draco at first looked a bit incredulous, but his handsome face twisted into a smirk.

"At least I have love life, Granger. Unlike yours which is perpetually non-existent." Draco said, a triumphant look stamping out the smirk.

The comment struck a raw nerve with Hermione. It was no joke that Hermione only had two boyfriends in her entire high school life, and one of them disappeared without so much as a notice. And whilst Draco probably spent his spare time shagging anything that could walk and was under 20, Hermione was doing extra credit work and shoving her boyfriends out of the picture in that time.

The girls had ridiculed Hermione for her so called 'virgin status', saying that Hermione probably thought that not doing the deed was considered some form of good luck charm, and that's why she received such good marks. Hermione had often privately thought to herself that was why practically all the girls at school were as brain dead as planks of wood.

"Excuse me, but my love life is none of your business." Hermione said. It was a weak defense, but it was better than staying silent and looking like she had just been slapped. But in a way, she already had been.

"It's not yours, either." Draco pressed on, obviously pleased with himself in finding probably the only weak spot the intellectually mighty Hermione Granger had.

"I do believe that it is." Hermione said firmly.

"What I don't get is how it's your business, when there actually isn't any business to mind." Draco said nastily. He scoffed and looked at his surroundings in a somewhat subtle manner. "You know, aside from Krum and little carrot head, I bet that you didn't have any other serious relationships, aside from your family." Hermione blinked and became silent. Draco knew that he was winning their argument. And dammit, he was enjoying it.

"What did you do for extra credit romance?" Draco mocked. He put on a high, mimicking voice. "Oh, Harry, can I lick your shoes for you? Or any other part for that matter?" Hermione's eye started twitching.

"Oh, Harry, I have no love life so I'll just come to you." Draco continued. "I know that you've finally agreed to do it with me, Harry, but a new exam has just come up and I need to study. God you were pathetic, Granger."

Hermione felt herself going red from embarrassment, but also from anger. Even though Draco was mocking her, she couldn't think of a single comeback line. A part of her wanted to start crying and start drinking like a fish like a poor little spinster living alone in London – but then she reminded herself that she was only still in her twenties and that spinsterhood wasn't quite achievable yet. Another part of her wanted to pounce onto Draco and kill him in the most painful and slow way possible. The third part of her wanted Harry to come in and kill Draco for her. The last part wanted Ron. Not to do anything; just to come back.

"Actually, no, I was wrong." Draco said. "You weren't pathetic, Granger. Well, you _were_ pathetic, but you're still pathetic now. No love life; just a major commitment to work."

Finally, Hermione found her voice. "At least I had meaningful relationships. You just sleep around like some playboy who can't be bothered to do anything else. Just because your father was too busy shagging other women aside from your mother and ending up in prison. Just because your mother was too busy buying expensive gowns and presents for herself to like you."

"Meaningful relationships? _Meaningful relationships_?" Draco snorted. "Ha! The last person that you were with left England and the face of the Earth for all we know, Granger! You call _that_ a meaningful relationship?"

"At least I've had a decent relationship! You don't even get a decent relationship from your parents, let alone anybody else." Hermione yelled back. "You go around and screw as much women you want because you just want to be loved. At least I know what love is."

Draco's face stiffened. He didn't want to discuss this anymore. He didn't want to discuss it ever again. Of course, Hermione probably dug out a truth that Draco didn't even know about. Truthfully, he only slept around so much because he liked it and because then girls everywhere would throw themselves at him. He probably did subconsciously want to find somebody to really see something more in him than a one night stand, but he was Draco Malfoy. If there was one thing that his father had taught him, it was that a Malfoy never showed weakness. They never did and they should never do so in the future.

"Love?" Draco asked. He started for Hermione and she started backing away. "Don't get mushy on me, Granger. I don't need a lecture about talking about my 'feelings' and my 'emotions'. Love symbolises weakness! Love is just a sidetrack on the way to power! It's there to distract people from becoming rich and influential and everything else that puts them into places above the common idiots in society. _Love is nothing_." By now, Hermione had been backed away so much that she was now against the wall.

Draco's stormy grey eyes looked like they were filled with lightning. He was clearly angry and stirred up and he obviously didn't want to discuss the topic anymore. He bashed the wall hard with his fist and then walked silently out of Hermione's office.

The door slammed shut and Hermione let out a sigh. She looked up at ceiling and just blinked at it until her lunch break was over.

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After Hermione had locked up her office that night, she spotted Draco sitting down in a chair, arms crossed and looking at his watch. He had avoided her for the rest of the day after the fight, spending as much time with Tammy as possible. At present, he didn't even want to see her after what she had said. He knew that she had only said it because she couldn't think of anything else to embarrass herself with; but he still wanted to kill her. Then he reminded himself that he couldn't; mainly because that she was his boss and if he killed her then he wouldn't get paid … not that Malfoys needed anymore money in the first place.

'What's wrong with you, Draco?' he thought to himself as he watched the minute hand tick past twelve. 'By remaining silent, you're telling her that you're weak and vulnerable. And you're a Malfoy! Malfoys are _never_ weak and vulnerable. You're going to bring more shame on the family if you just sit here like Potter. Stupid Potter,'

"Are you done yet?" Draco drawled lazily, tearing his eyes away from the riveting movements of his watch.

'You stupid cow,' He thought as he stood up.

"Almost," Hermione replied, trying to keep her answers as brief as possible.

'Shut up, I don't see you helping me.' She thought.

"Then hurry up." Draco said.

'I'm hungry and I don't want to spend anymore time staring at your stupid bushy head.'

"Just because you're pissed off at me because I've uncovered some form of 'truth' of you, it doesn't mean that you can—" Hermione whirled around as soon as she had checked up on Harry's office.

'You ass hole!'

There had been a crack and Draco had Apparated; probably back to Hermione's house. Hermione groaned and then took one final sweeping look of her office before Apparating back home.

'Stupid Draco,' Hermione thought as she arrived home.

Draco had left a huge mess on the dining table; mostly wrappers, odd bits of food and unwashed dishes. It was actually quite amazing that he had managed such a sterling effort when he had just arrived seconds before Hermione did.

Draco himself was sitting down at the other side of the messy table, eating, as he read _The Daily Prophet_. He had raided Hermione's fridge once more and was spearing bits of chicken and salad with his fork. Next to him was a tall glass of pumpkin juice.

'Ahh, Queen of the Virgins returns.' He thought as he turned to the next page of the newspaper.

"What did you do?" Hermione practically shrieked at Draco, looking at the mess which he had made.

"Made myself dinner, you Flobberworm," Draco replied calmly. Chew, chew; swallow.

"Don't you dare call me names in my own house," Hermione said, surveying Draco's mess with great disdain.

"It's actually more of an apartment," Draco said. Chew, chew; swallow.

"It's still the place where I live!" Hermione objected, pulling out her wand and aiming it at the mess.

"A cave," Draco remarked. Chew, chew; swallow.

"Oh, _shut up_!" Hermione said angrily as the mess disappeared.

"There's no need for that tone." Draco smirked. Swallow, gulp; swallow.

"Yes there is." Hermione lowered her voice. If there was one thing that she had learnt, it was that settling a dispute should be done calmly and quietly.

"No there isn't." Draco retorted. Chew, chew; swallow.

"Just because you lost that argument this afternoon," Hermione blurted out. As soon as she had said it, she regretted it.

"I didn't lose it." Draco said; a muscle stiffening inside his mouth.

"Yes you did." Hermione continued.

'Mental note: must stop verbal diarrhoea.'

"You bashed my office wall. You lost."

"Since when did bashing a wall ever mean that you lost an argument?" Draco asked, abandoning his food.

"You lost control of your anger. You lost."

"Who ever said that I lost control of my anger?"

"I did."

"And who said that you were in charge?"

"Nobody; but I'm still a bigger authority."

"Sure you are, mudblood."

"What did you call me?"

"Get a hearing aid, mudblood."

"For goodness' sake, Malfoy, it's not the time to call people names."

"And who said that?"

A frustrated growl. "Just shut up!"

"Can't quite hack it, can you?"

"Bite me,"

"Gladly,"

"_Arrgh_!"

"Louder, Granger! Faster, faster!"

"What _is_ your problem?"

"You,"

"How very mature,"

"I'm still more mature than you,"

"You're missing a cord up there if you think that,"

"At least I'm not missing all of them,"

"Fantastic comeback,"

"It was better than yours."

"You've got a serious attitude problem,"

"Nothing better to say?"

"I'm not going to spend all of my time arguing with you."

"Just most of it, then?"

"Can you _please_ stop acting like you have a giant Blast-Ended Skrewt up your ass?"

"Would you like to check for me, then?"

"I'm going to bed."

"I'm coming too."

"Fuck off."

With that, Hermione got up and then walked the short distance to her bedroom wearily. She closed the door and then changed into her pyjamas.

Stupid Malfoy. _He_ was the one that screwed up her work life. _He _was the one that had bashed the office wall. _He_ was the one that was making it seem like she was in the wrong. _He_ was the one that had trashed her house/apartment. _He_ was the one that said that _she_ had an attitude problem. She wished that he would go away.

The phone started ringing.

Hermione reached for it, but it stopped ringing.

"Hello?" she heard Draco's voice say.

'Oh for crying out loud!' Hermione mentally screamed. 'He insults me then he answers my phone?'

Hermione leaned over to the phone again and started listening in on the conversation.

"Draco?" the voice of Tammy could be heard.

"Why, hello, Tammy," Draco replied.

"Hi," Tammy sounded nervous. "Look, I might as well cut to the chase …"

"Go right ahead."

"Are you busy next Saturday?"

'Holy crap!' Hermione thought as she nearly dropped the phone. Tammy was asking Draco out! Tammy! Tamara Harding was asking out _Draco Malfoy_ of all people! 'The world has gone crazy.'

"I don't appear to be," Draco replied. Hermione felt sick. She couldn't listen to any of this anymore.

Hanging up her phone, Hermione flopped back onto her bed and then turned off her light.

"So I'll see you Saturday?" Draco clarified. "OK, see you then."

Draco put down the phone and downed the rest of his pumpkin juice. He sat down on the couch and then smirked. He had just been offered another way to at least disrupt Hermione's scheduled and organised life. It wasn't as if he had to chase it or anything. It was like it had just barged in through the door, waiting to be used. The art of pissing off Hermione Granger was getting funner by the moment.

Not even thinking about washing the dishes, Draco changed into his pyjamas and then stretched before getting under his blanket. He turned off the lamp next to him after a slight struggle (there was never a need to use electricity in the Malfoy manor) and then slowly fell asleep, a smug look on his face.

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**A/N:** Huge apologies to all for the lateness of the chapter! The past month has been rather hectic and I've barely had time to get onto the computer. This chapter was created in the midst of very stubborn and long periods of writer's block, a crazy birthday party, a Maths topic which I was absolutely lost in, the reality of me flunking Science (I'm dead), making plastic bag dresses (no kidding), repeatedly watching _Bridget Jones's Diary_ (still love Colin Firth), watching _Bridget Jones 2: The Edge of Reason_ (still love Colin Firth) and 9 birthdays (mine included). And let's not forget that recently did something to uploading servers and stuff, so I couldn't upload for a few days. So thank you for bearing with me so much, faithful readers!

I did say that we find out if the letter was good or bad in this chapter, didn't I? Well … that just goes to show that we all must eat our words at some point in our lives. I'm so very sorry, but for plot reasons, I don't think I can just yet reveal the contents of the letter yet. But hey, at least you get a longer time to enjoy the Draco/Hermies tension.

Thank you to all my spectacular reviewers! Like I've said before (but I'll say it again), every single one of your reviews make writing this story a lot more enjoyable and gives me inspiration to keep on churning out chapters. I just want you all to know that there wouldn't be much chapters at all if you all didn't revew!

And, of course, inspirational people get rewarded. Mostly by food rewards. So come and claim your (either vegetarian or meatlovers) pizza if you're: **insanemaniac**, **Keindra**, **Meg**, **T.O.D.818**, **foxer**, **IceCrystal**, **Fluffy-5678**, **Callie**, **EmeraldFlame**, **stargazerstarluver**, **jaminika**,** NitenGale**, **alien726** (who made a rather good point about the cousin thingy – I'll try and change that later. For that, you get another piece of pizza! Note to other reviewers: This does not give you the cue to start snooping around my chapters for anything that I've done wrong ;) ), **Christi-Lynn**, **Choasdragon**, **Crash**, **SmilinStar **and **Mrs. Blaise Zabini**.

Right, well, for the people who review this chapter, they shall receive … a slice of ice cream birthday cake (for obvious reasons, of course)! Mmm … ice cream …

As well as that, thank you to all the wonderful reviewers who wished me a happy birthday! I did indeed enjoy my birthday and I had a great time. I did, after all, get_ Bridget Jones's Diary_ and as a result got to stare at Colin Firth a lot.

ARGH! Must stop thinking about Colin Firth …

Please don't be angry at me if I don't put up another chapter soon! I have a feeling that December is going to be crazy too, so I will apologise in advance.

And lastly, if you want to me to email you on when the story is updated, please email me and tell me. You will get emails from me as soon as I update the story. :)

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

**--Look at moiye, ploise!--**

P.S. Psst … to all you fellow _Bridget Jones's Diary_ lovers and to those who have the DVD, my favourite scene is scene 20.

P.P.S. I'm watching you, Sophie. P


	6. Weekend Rendezvous

**The Bodyguard**  
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like _Hack_ and other mentioned ones do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influential Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

**THE BODYGUARD **

Chapter 6 – Weekend Rendezvous

The minutes steadily ticked by on the red letters displayed on Hermione Granger's alarm clock. But for the first time in five days, when the clock reached 06.30, it didn't start shooting different types of verbal abuse at Hermione. Instead, it ticked on.

It was the weekend.

The two days in any working person's week in which every hour was happy hour. It was a time to go crazy on the vodka, to talk superficial things with girlfriends or watching football and cheering with the guys.

Hermione rolled over in bed, groaned, and continued sleeping.

For Hermione Granger, it was a time where she could another book to her rather shocking 'Books read in lifetime' list without feeling guilty. Or it was a time where she could pop down to Diagon Alley to buy more books to read. Come to think of it, Hermione's weekends were usually just as academic and as much as a learning process as the rest of the week. Most of the other women her age would have dumped the books for gyration on the dance floor at any given moment on the weekends, but Hermione preferred reading on her couch with a cup of hot chocolate.

Draco rolled over on the couch, teetered and then fell off with a loud THUD. He came up clutching his head and groaning irritably.

For Draco Malfoy, the weekend didn't hold any more significance than the rest of the week. Before, in his 'happier' days when he wasn't 'working', Draco spent every day of every week partying with his rich-but-not-as-rich Hogwarts friends in trendy nightclubs in wizard London. Every night was with different music, different jokes and different women. And if by some miraculous chance Draco wasn't in a club, he would have been outside smoking (a filthy habit which he had quit because he realised that he only attracted 40-something, wrinkly, peroxide blondes when he smelt like tobacco) or following yet another female back to her house for some 'coffee'. Draco cared not for education when could have been gyrated against in a dark nightclub with a gorgeous woman.

"_You should know the reason why I left, Hermione," the red head said with a tinge of sorrow in his voice._

"_I do." Hermione replied.  
_

"_And what would it be?" Ron asked._

"_Because I broke up with you," Hermione answered, slightly self-conscious with the fact that her theory of him leaving had something to do with her inflicting the main blow._

"_That's kind of it." Ron said evasively. He looked her squarely in the eyes, a serious look crossing his freckled face. "Do you want to know the _entire_ reason why I left?"_

"_Yes," Hermione said breathlessly. "Tell me why you left, Ron."_

_The figure of Ron opened his mouth and started speaking, but the words that came out of his mouth did not fit it._

"_What?" Hermione asked, but Ron didn't stop talking. "Can you repeat that Ron?" Again, she was ignored. "Ron! Tell me why you left! Why can't you come back? RON!"_

"_You smell, Grangie." A voice that obviously did not belong to Ron said. "Stinky! Smelly! Odorous! That's why I left you! Because you're smelly, and nobody wants to be with a smelly person."_

_The image of Ron slowly started slipping away. Hermione, confused, reached out her arm._

"_Don't go, Ron! That's not the real reason you left, is it?"_

_And before he could explain, Ron disappeared._

"RON!" Hermione sat up in bed quickly, breathing hard and then knocking foreheads with somebody else. "OUCH!" she brought a palm up to her forehead in a feeble attempt to make it less painful.

"Having an identity crisis for me then, Granger?" the-foreign-voice-that-did-not-belong-to-Ron said.

"You!" Hermione said aggressively.

"Yes; me," Draco said, shaking his head slightly. "After all, it _is_ always about me."

"What are _you_ doing in _my_ bedroom?" Hermione rounded on him, shoving aside his obviously arrogant remark.

"Well it seemed that you were having a rather important and enlightening dream about our favourite carrot head," Draco explained. "So obviously, I had to interrupt it."

"You _jerk_!" Hermione yelled. She was about to pounce on him and strangle him to death.

"What do I jerk?" Draco asked in an ignorant voice. He leaned over to Hermione. "Do you want me to give you a hint to where I jerk?" He extended his arm slowly.

"No, thank you very much." Hermione threw aside the covers and stepped out of bed. "Don't you have a kitchen to mess up?"

"Yes, actually," Draco smiled somewhat pleasantly. But his tone was actually worthy of sprouting two devil horns. "But right now, I need to use the bathroom." And with that, he beat Hermione on the way to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it.

"Alohomora!" Hermione tried restlessly at the lock. The door didn't budge; Draco obviously didn't use an Alohomara-ble spell. Hermione uttered yet another frustrated sigh and then sat down on her bed.

Hermione felt like a shrew. All because this jerk-ass had pushed all of her buttons so much that she would have probably needed to display a 'GAME OVER' sign on her. She wanted to punch him. No; she wanted to do more than punch him. But of course, her way would involve a series of rather frightening curses and a whole lot of mess, so she decided against it.

"Hey, what's this?" Draco's voice wafted from the bathroom. "'A special formula used for straightening super stubborn strands for exclusive social gatherings.' Why, Granger! I never knew that you were so image conscious."

'Oh, crap. He's gotten into the medicine cabinet.' Hermione thought to herself.

"Ooh, lipstick, eh?" Draco's tone was mocking. "'Pure Paradise; for the gorgeous woman inside to indulge in.'"

'And the lipstick from Paris.' Hermione rested her head into her hands. She needed an aspirin.

"Why, I didn't know that you were a lipstick person …" Draco said casually.

'Well at least he got something right.' Hermione thought.

It was true; she wasn't a beauty or hair care person. The money that she earned from her job either went to savings account at Gringotts, towards groceries, books or sometimes clothes. She wasn't really ever interested in make-up or hair products. The only reason that she had 'Pure Paradise' lipstick was because Tammy had bought it for her at an outrageous price as a birthday present when she had gone over to Paris for a holiday. The only reason that she had the specially formulated straightening lotion was because the brand had been specifically endorsed by Gilderoy Lockhart. And whilst she may have put on a 'what-on-earth-are-you-talking-about' look on her face whenever somebody mentioned Hermione's infatuation (or obsession) with Lockhart, on the inside Hermione was still captivated by Lockhart and his brave attitude and doings. Perhaps it was still silly liking Lockhart considering all the lives that he ruined with those memory charms and false glory, but Hermione didn't really care that much. She spent so much time being straight-laced that she didn't see why she couldn't indulge in any little fantasies.

"And what on earth are these contraptions?" Draco asked to nobody in particular. Hermione heard him fumbling around with something. "These little white things with a string coming out of one end. It looks like some sort of rocket with a string on it."

'Oh God,' Hermione's head immediately jerked up. He had gotten into the toiletries section.

"What are these used for?" Draco asked ignorantly. Hermione heard some plastic rustling.

'Oh God,'

"Do you use them for nose bleeds? Stick them up your nose, do you?" Draco asked.

'You stick them somewhere.' Hermione thought.

There was a loud rumbling from outside and Hermione looked out of the window. It was raining.

"Perfect to match my mood right now." She whispered absently to herself.

"What did you say there?" Draco asked. There was silence for a few seconds. "What time is it?"

"12 noon." Hermione said, even though she knew perfectly well that her alarm clock was marked 08.00.

"_12 noon_?" Hermione could hear some things falling off the bathroom bench. "I have to go!"

"And where are you going?" Draco Malfoy had pissed her off and woken her up early on a Saturday; he deserved to struggle a little bit.

"None of your business," Draco replied evasively.

"Well it is if you're using my bathroom." Hermione said. The bathroom door swung open.

"Issue over." Draco said, walking swiftly out of the bathroom.

"You've still got to tell me." Hermione pressed on.

"I'm out of your bathroom." Draco said, walking towards the kitchen.

"If you're living here then you've got to tell me." Hermione followed Draco to the kitchen.

"If you're trying to get me out of your modest dwelling with this blatant invasion of privacy, then I can tell you that I would gladly do so."

"So why don't you go?"

"Because I …" Draco gulped. "Work. For you,"

"Ooh, that sounded nice. Say that again." Hermione smirked.

And so the tables hard turned.

"No." Draco opened the fridge and attempted looking quite interested in the milk bottle writing. He wasn't used to being the vulnerable one in situations like this, unless it was around his father. But he must not think about his father.

"Oh c'mon," Hermione said, making herself a cup of tea.

"Shut up." Draco said, grabbing the milk and placing it on the kitchen table.

"Well, something's definitely stuck up your ass this morning." Hermione muttered, sitting down on the kitchen bench and sipping her tea.

"There isn't actually, but I can always stick something up _your_ ass every morning." Draco replied smoothly, now just pulling out anything edible in the fridge.

"Does everything have to be about sex around you?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"What? Do you actually want to do it instead of talking about it all day, then?" Draco asked, closing the fridge door.

"No, thank you." Hermione said crisply. "But it would be nice to be reminded that you work for me."

"Yes, it would, wouldn't it?" Draco asked, pulling the wrapper off a muesli bar. "This is precisely why I'm not going to say anything. And I advise that you don't either, unless you want me to shut you up for you."

"And what are you going to do? I'm your boss. I can fire you and send you back home at any time that I feel like." Hermione reminded him. He had pissed her off enough; she felt like abusing her power. Well, not really. In her mind, actually, but it was fun making empty threats at Draco, purely for the sake of pissing him off. After all, he had done it to Hermione heaps of times; so wasn't she entitled to do some dirty work?

"Sure, you really have that confidence." Draco snorted, throwing the now empty muesli wrapper onto the table.

"Excuse me?" Hermione got up off of the table. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. Now shut up; I'm hungry." Draco sat down and started on a bowl of cereal that he had prepared.

"No!" Hermione slammed the cup down in the sink. "I will not be told to shut up in my own house!"

"Cave dwelling." Draco added between bites of cereal. "Now shut up."

"Apologise!" Hermione turned on the tap to fill her cup and then turned it off. "It is 8 fucking am, Malfoy, and I am in no mood to argue with you like I have no responsibilities."

"8am?" Draco looked confused. "You said it was 12 noon."

"It doesn't matter what time it is!"

"Yes it does, actually." Draco bit back. "I just happen to have a very important meeting later on in the day."

'Ahh, the date with Tammy,' Hermione thought, in surprised bitterness.

"Important meeting? You are my bodyguard! You don't go for important meetings anywhere." Hermione sniffed. Watching him lie was fun … especially when she knew the real meaning behind the 'important meeting'.

"And since when did you think that you were in charge of my life?" Draco asked, pouring himself another bowl of cereal. "Now shut up, I want to eat my breakfast in quiet."

"How many times have you told me to shut up today?" Hermione asked irritably. "Has the thought ever occurred to you that _you_ might the one who needs shutting up?"

"And has the thought ever occurred to _you_ that _you are_ the one who _should_ shut up?" Draco asked. "So I'll say it one more time. Shut. Up." Mediocre fighting. The best way to start of a weekend.

"I told you; I will not shut up! This is my house and if you eating _my_ food, sleeping on_ my_ furniture, living in _my _house and using _my _things, I suggest that you –"

Hermione would have said more. She would have said anything, really, if she had not been silenced.

"I told you to shut up." Draco pressed his lips against hers. "And since you didn't, I'm shutting you up yourself."

'OH. HOLY. JESUS.' Hermione thought to herself as Draco started moving his mouth around on hers.

He was undeniably a good kisser (goodness knows that he had the experience), and Hermione couldn't help but notice that. Which was why she was mentally slapping herself. It would have been at least a little romantic …if Hermione hadn't tasted muesli bar.

'Thank God, some silence …' Draco thought to himself, as if he was doing nothing but putting a hand over her mouth.

"Now, are you going to shut up?" Draco asked. Hermione didn't do anything.

'OH. DEAR. GOD.' She thought.

"Well, since you're not replying …" Draco prised his lips off of hers. "I'll take that as a no. So unless you _do _say something, I guess I'm just going to have to kiss you until you do so." He leaned forward again and started kissing her again.

"GET OFF OF ME!" And all at once, the situation came crashing onto Hermione like a tonne of bludgers. She was standing in her kitchen snogging (or being snogged by) Draco Malfoy after they nearly just ripped each others heads off and when they both knew that Draco had a date with Tammy later on.

"Oh, Granger, you know that you loved it." Draco winked at her roguishly.

Hermione couldn't speak. She was speechless. It was as if Draco Malfoy kissing her was enough to silence her completely. And so after a few seconds of her looking horrified, confused and disgusted with Draco looking at her with a mischievous and scoundrel-like look on his face, Hermione finally found her voice.

"What is your problem?" Hermione asked, wiping her mouth wildly.

"You asked me that question yesterday." Draco said, skipping around the subject.

"Where do you get off like that; going around and snogging me when I won't be quiet when I'm told to by a very unwelcome person in my own household?"

"I warned you before." Draco shrugged, returning to his breakfast.

"That's it?" Hermione obviously had a different perspective of what Draco's answer would have been.

"Yes. Now be quiet, unless you want me to do it again." Hermione couldn't believe it. It was like some form of mutiny. And the stupid thing was that Hermione had actually listened to the git, and was being quiet. It wasn't that Hermione didn't want to be kissed again by Malfoy (he was a pretty good kisser, but she'd rather be burnt at the stake before admitting that), but the guilt of betraying Tammy like that was overwhelming already.

"Fine," Hermione said standoffishly.

And off she went to her bedroom, slamming the door. She was pretty sure that cracks would soon appear on the walls after all that door slamming.

Hermione sat down on her bed.

Draco Malfoy; evil in human form, bastard beyond belief and nemesis for lifetime had just snogged her. Even thinking about that possibility generated a whole lot of different emotions and feelings – sickness and disgust being the two main ones.

Yet here Hermione was, sitting on her bed and staring at the wall right after that had just happened. It was freaky. It was scary. It had just happened. And she felt like she was going to be sick.

'I can't believe that he kissed you, dear,' the first voice in Hermione's head said.

'I can,' the second said.

'What do you mean?' the first voice asked suspiciously.

'Well it's simple, really. She kept on talking when he told her to shut up. And he also said that if she didn't shut up then he'd have to do it for her.' The second voice explained calmly.

'You're just repeating what he said.' The first voice retaliated.

'You're point being?' the second voice asked.

'That's hardly an argument.' The first voice said.

'And who asked you? You're probably only saying that because you're losing the argument.'

'_Losing the argument_? Are you crazy?' the first voice's … voice rose.

'Why are you two always arguing?' Hermione thought.

'Because _you're_ always getting into stupid situations,' The second voice taunted.

'It's not my fault that Malfoy's an ass-hole.' Hermione thought defensively.

'Exactly; now go and sit in the corner.' The first voice directed the second.

"Will you two please be quiet?" Hermione yelled.

'Well!' the first voice seemed appalled.

'Indeed!' the second voice agreed.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of madness, you know!" Draco yelled. Of course, kissing Hermione Granger might not have been the best experience in the world, but pissing somebody off on a Saturday morning was always a fun thing to do. Especially to one (or preferably all three) of the Golden Trio; which was why it was too bad Ron had disappeared off into oblivion.

"Yeah and kissing you is always the first." Hermione said to herself, running to the bathroom to brush her teeth and tongue thoroughly.

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The rest of the morning was spent without any remarks. Hermione and Draco had obviously mutually ignored each other in verbal contexts, but Draco kept on shooting Hermione mocking glances and raising his eyebrows suggestively at her. Hermione had the mature approach and either ignored him or rolled her eyes at him.

Both of them had made it a special priority to sit as far away from each other for the rest of the morning. Hermione had only done it because she wanted to stay away from Draco for the rest of her life and Draco had only done it because he knew that if he kept on moving closer to her she'd probably start another argument. And he hated women nagging.

And so Hermione and Draco sat at opposite ends of the living room throwing each other sarcastic (and evocative in Draco's case) looks at each other whilst Hermione tried reading _Pride and Prejudice_ and Draco subtly transfigured some of the many small trinkets belonging to Hermione into things like fur balls and buttons.

_Tick, tock._

'I wish he would stop giving me those stupid looks. It was his fault in the first place.' Hermione thought as she turned the page.

'I think I'll change the pincushion into ... a roll of sticky tape. She deserves this after all those glares that she gave me.' Draco thought, as he swished his wand a little bit. In a blink of an eye, the pincushion turned into the intended roll of sticky tape.

_Tick, tock._

'Why does he have such an attitude problem?' Hermione kept on reading. 'Why can't he be more like a Mr. Darcy?'

'Photo frame into shell,' Draco thought lazily. 'Does she always look this stupid when she's reading?'

_Tick, tock._

'Why couldn't I get a decent bodyguard? Somebody who can at least throw himself in front of me in the line of fire; not get knocked out at the first sign of danger,' Hermione turned another page.

'China doll into Bicorn powder,' another flick of the wand. 'Wish I could transfigure her into a dung beetle.'

_Tick, tock._

'I could have gotten a nice, reasonable bodyguard. But no, I had to end up with the un-charming and terribly un-sexy contemporary Wickham.' Hermione sighed with frustration.

'That gives me an idea. Candle into dead dung beetle,' Flick. 'What time is it?' Draco looked up at the clock. He got up.

"I have to go. My important meeting is on now." He went for the door. Hermione kept on reading and ignored him.

_Slam._

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Draco didn't usually go on dates during the afternoon. Actually, he didn't usually go on dates full stop. He preferred going to clubs, meeting women and then sneaking back home the next morning. It wasn't as if he couldn't hold down a steady girlfriend (he could if he wanted to), he just didn't choose to. It might have been a bit unfair for the girls, but he didn't care. After all, he was a Malfoy. And a Malfoy's wants and needs always came before anybody else's.

He agreed to meet Tammy at The Three Broomsticks at Hogsmeade that afternoon at 12.30pm. He walked into the bar to find Tammy sitting alone at a booth with a revealing top and lips slicked with lipgloss.

"Hello there." Draco said in his most charming voice as he slid into the booth.

"Hi, Draco," Tammy smiled coyly. "Would you like a drink?"

"I thought that it was customary for the men to order the drink." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, welcome to the 21st century." Tammy winked at Draco and went off to the bar.

Draco looked out of the window. Whilst every other woman that Draco chased looked, acted and thought like Tammy more of less, Draco really didn't seem to tire of his choice in women. Of course, he usually didn't get to know them for more than a night, but he obviously didn't have that option with Tammy. Tammy was best girlfriend to Granger herself, and if he cracked her or got to 'know her really well', then obviously Granger would get the shits with it and then she'd kick him out of her apartment or something. So of course Draco did what every other Malfoy would have done in the same position.

He decided to string her along.

Draco was bored after 'working' so hard (it mostly consisted of him flirting shamelessly with Tammy and sprouting random bits of French which Tammy never understood), and decided that he wanted some play time. He wanted to see how long he could continue this without Tammy getting pissed.

But there was another issue with dating Tammy. After all –

"Hey," Tammy sat down and handed Draco a pitcher of butterbeer. "Fresh out of the tap," Tammy smiled and then clinked glasses with him.

Draco took a sip. "Mm, nice." He winked at Tammy and he watched her blush. "So what do you want to today?"

"I don't know," Tammy took another sip of her butterbeer. "How about we have some lunch after this and then just walk around the shops in Diagon Alley?"

"Je souhaite que vous vous mouriez vache ennuyante," Draco sprouted with a seductive smile on his face. Tammy giggled.

"What does that mean?" she asked, tilting her head before taking another sip of butterbeer.

"It means 'I would love that, beautiful woman'." Draco lied smoothly as he swallowed more of his drink. Tammy seemed to gobble up all that French gibberish.

"Well I would love to as well." Tammy smiled shyly and then drained her pitcher. "Ready to go?"

Draco took a final gulp of his drink and then nodded. He went up to Rosmerta and paid for the drinks (much to the objections of Tammy) and then exited the bar, Tammy clinging onto his arm. They walked down the main strip of Hogsmeade.

"I thought that we were going to Diagon Alley." Draco said, looking at shop windows, but not really seeing anything.

"I don't see why we can't look around Hogsmeade first." Tammy said as they both passed The Shrieking Shack.

"Of course not," Draco agreed, glaring at a few annoying children in front of a Quidditch shop. They quickly scampered away and Draco looked into the window.

"I wonder what scared those children away." Tammy said absent-mindedly.

"Ils fonctionnaient loin de votre visage laid," Draco muttered. Tammy giggled and then snuggled into Draco's arm.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"'They ran away to tell the world of your radiance'." Draco lied again. He didn't really have any qualms about lying to Tammy – it was terribly easy and fun at the same time. Tammy blushed again. "Oh, you have some butterbeer froth on your lip."

"Really?" Tammy asked. "Where?" She wiped her bottom lip.

"Here; I'll get it." Draco wiped his finger slowly over the top of her higher lip. By now, if Tammy turned any redder she would have turned into the colour of Weasley's hair.

"Thanks." She said in a whisper of a voice. Draco cleared his throat.

"No problem." He smirked. "Come on, why don't we get to Diagon Alley now?"

"Alright," Tammy smiled. "I'll meet you inside the Leaky Cauldron, ok?"

"OK." And with a _pop!_ Tammy disappeared.

"Who ever knew that French could prove to be so fun?" Draco asked himself before Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron himself.

The Leaky Cauldron's environment was that of a buzzing and pleasant one with a hint of weirdness. Witches, wizards, hags and many other different magical folk were sitting down having a drink with each other (or by themselves in the case of the hags) and laughing merrily to anything. Tom, the wizened bar-keeper was polishing some glasses behind the counter. Draco found Tammy immediately.

"Hi." He said, softly touching her arm.

"Hello." She said, giving him a toothy smile. "Come on, let's go and eat." She started for the wall connecting to Diagon Alley.

"Great. Where are we going?" Draco suddenly remembered that all he had had that morning was two bowls of cereal and a muesli bar before snogging –

"Oh, this new place that opened up in the Alley. I think it's called Flying Sparks or something." Tammy said. Draco paled further than usual.

"Sparks Will Fly," Draco corrected. He wouldn't be forgetting that name anytime soon. "How about we steer away from that restaurant today?"

"Why? I've been meaning to check it out for a little while." Tammy asked as she stopped walking.

"Well we can look at it next time we go out." Draco said. Tammy beamed. "But for now how about we just stay here and eat? It's nice and cosy and secretive."

"Secretive?" Tammy asked, raising her eyebrows.

"In the sense that if we did something then nobody would see us," Draco whispered. "And nobody seeing would mean nobody telling."

"Right," Tammy winked. "But this time I insist on paying."

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By the time that Draco came home that night Hermione had finished reading _Pride and Prejudice_ and was preparing dinner, even though the both of them knew that she had horrible culinary skills.

Hermione was chopping up some carrots when Draco leant against the kitchen doorway.

"Why isn't there any vodka in this house?" Hermione asked herself as her carrots went into weird shapes.

"Because drunken heads of headquarters aren't really fantastically attractive," Draco answered. "Not that you were attractive in the first place."

Hermione's knife swerved at a dangerous angle from being startled.

"_ARGH_!" There was a clang of steel on steel and Hermione clutched her left index finger.

"Don't tell me that you've severed your finger, Granger." Draco said, rolling his eyes as he approached Hermione. "I'm hungry enough to eat your cooking and I'm in no mood for you to be chopping off your own body parts."

"Oh trust me; if you stay here, it's not any of _my_ body parts I'll be chopping off." Hermione said through clenched teeth. "_Ouch_!"

"For goodness' sake ... what did you do?" Draco asked in a bored tone. Hermione made a pained face and showed Draco her deeply cut finger.

Draco groaned and then turned on the tap. Cold water poured through the tap and Draco gently grabbed Hermione's injured finger before running it under the tap.

"Ow!" Hermione grumbled. "Stop squeezing it!"

"You have to put pressure onto it." Draco explained, squeezing her finger harder on purpose.

"MALFOY!" Hermione yelled.

"That would have sounded better over there," Draco jerked his head in the direction of Hermione's bedroom.

"So you're still an asshole when I'm injured." Hermione said.

"Happy to be of service," Draco winked and Hermione gave him a sarcastic look. "Now, let's look at the finger." He pulled Hermione's finger out from underneath the tap. It was still bleeding a little.

"Well, Doctor Malfoy, is it better?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, eh?" Draco blinked. He liked the sound of that; it gave him a sense of authority. He pulled out his wand. "_Curus_!" In a flash, the cut disappeared and left Hermione's finger looking flawless. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you." Hermione said begrudgingly.

"Damn, I was hoping if I could kiss it and make it better." Draco said in his usual scoundrel-like demeanour.

"This is the nicest I'm going to get, Malfoy, so you better cherish it." Hermione said, waving her wand at the mess of vegetables on the sink. The vegetables started packing themselves together and then flew onto a plate. Another wave of Hermione's wand and the fridge opened and the plate settled itself onto one of its racks.

"So I can't really do anything to make you any nicer?" Draco asked, throwing Hermione a puppy dog look.

"Nope; not unless you drop dead, anyway," Hermione suggested.

"Not even a good snogging can help you?" Draco asked, snaking his arm around Hermione's waist.

"No." Hermione slipped out of the grip of Draco and headed for the fridge to find anything microwave friendly. She didn't want a repeat of this morning.

"You didn't really seem to think that way this morning." Draco reminded.

"And how would you know?" Hermione asked, finding a jug of pumpkin juice and a packet of microwavable pies.

"I have my ways." Draco shrugged. Hermione pulled out a plate and placed a frozen pie onto it. "Hey, what about my dinner?"

"I thought that you would have eaten on your big, important meeting ...?" Hermione blinked angelically.

"And how would you know?"

"I have my ways."

"Fine then, be a cow." Draco conjured himself a salad. He sat himself down at the dining table whilst Hermione grumbled incoherently under her breath. "I don't know why you don't conjure yourself something."

"I'd rather fire a _Crucio_ at you instead." Hermione replied. She didn't feel like telling him that last time she tried conjuring up something as simple as a sandwich a snail appeared. And whilst she liked _escargot_, she found it rather unappealing as it left a silver trail on her table. Who would have thought that Hogwarts valedictorian couldn't conjure up a simple sandwich?

_Ding_!

Hermione's pie was ready.

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When the dishes were washed, food eaten and Hermione's teeth were brushed, Draco and Hermione both settled in for a nights sleep.

But even when Hermione had turned off her light, leaving the apartment in total darkness, she couldn't fall asleep.

It was silly of her to be kept up by something as stupid as what she was thinking of. It wasn't as if she liked Draco; heck, she didn't even think that he was human sometimes (she was probably right on that one), but for some unknown reason she found the thought of Tammy and Draco together a little bit unsettling. Not in the spooky way, but in a different way. It was like jealousy, really, and Hermione couldn't believe that she was feeling that. It was only stupid Draco with Tammy. She didn't like him.

So why was she jealous?

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**A/N:** Chapter 6 is finished! Yay!

Thank you to all my fantastic readers and reviews; you guys rock! Also, thank you for putting up with the delays in between the chapters. True to my word, December was as hectic as November, but now it's the school holidays, and that means that I have more time to write some more chapters.

And guess what? Apparently, I didn't flunk Science (woohoo!), my group won a Gold award for our plastic bags dresses (woohoo!), I passed the rest of my subjects (woohoo!) and I got an award for drama (Hollywood and Colin Firth, here I come)! A time for celebration ... got to love December!

Ahh, Tammy and Draco on the not-so-disastrous-but-kinda-boring-date this chapter ... Hope you guys enjoyed this kind of slow bit in the chapter, but I wrote it just to show you that Draco wasn't going to physically violent on the date with Tim Tam.

Again, thank you and huggles to all my magnificent reviewers ... Just reminding you that if you guys didn't do your job (and you do it well), then you wouldn't have reached Chapter 6 of _The Bodyguard_.

So you've earned your slice of ice cream birthday cake if you're: **Tori**, **Rae**, **blonde-brain**, **Meg**, **SmilinStar**, **NitenGale**, **Kristen**, **Emerald Flame**, **Sophie/a**, **Tacroy**, **insanemaniac**, **IceCrystal**, **alien726**, **Christi-Lynn** (Mind reader, you are! Kudos to you on the inadvertent suggestion of shutting somebody up by kissing them; it's exactly what Draco did this chapter!) and **stargazer starluver**.

Hrm, for this chapter I think reviews will earn ... a Christmas stocking filled with lollies (like candy canes – not a personal favourite, but if you guys like them, great!) and chocolates (the author of this Author's Note will not mention any names for the likelihood of them being sued).

Second lastly, for those who don't know French (or didn't use any language translators), here is the English translation to what Draco said in French:

"**Je souhaite que vous vous mouriez vache ennuyante**" from the bit where Draco and Tammy are sitting in The Three Broomsticks, means "I wish that you die annoying cow" or "I wish you would die you annoying cow" (which was my intended choice of phrase).

"**Ils fonctionnaient loin de votre visage laid**" from that bit where Draco scares away the children in Hogsmeade, means "They functioned far from your ugly face" or "They ran away because of your ugly face" (which was my intended choice of phrase).

Now I have nothing left to say, so I'll see you all next chapter!

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

--**Look at moiye, ploise!**—

P.S. MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!

P.P.S. YAY FOR THE SCHOOL HOLIDAYS! TIME FOR SHOPPING, SLEEPING IN AND PIGGING OUT ON JUNK FOOD!

P.P.P.S. Luv ya Sophie ;)


	7. Christmas

**The Bodyguard**  
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like _Hack_ and other mentioned ones do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and influential Ministry official. He was the trust-funded, but un-employed, handsome playboy. But when Draco Malfoy is hired as Hermione Granger's bodyguard, it's amazing that two people so different (with the hatred of each other to prove it) could fit together so perfectly in the jigsaw puzzle of life.

**THE BODYGUARD **

Chapter 7 – Christmas

Chapter 7

Weeks passed and Hermione found herself throwing herself more into work, with paperwork and filing haunting her occasionally. More often than not, she would be spending more than two hours in her office after everybody but Draco had left. It was rather maddening; going through all the work efficiently and quickly enough so that she could have a decent Christmas break. But she knew that even though she may have earned that break, her dining table would be home to more stacks of work; enough to get her through six weeks. Hermione was hoping that she'd be able to work through it in three weeks (the length of her holiday) before she settled back into her familiar squishy armchair in her office.

Of course, the holiday was supposed to be longer (it was the end and the beginning of a year), but Hermione found it comforting to be kept busy by work than to be 'tied down' by being invited to party crazily. Quite unusual; as she had intended to party crazily for many years but couldn't because of work. Now when the holidays rolled around, she would be doing nothing but voluntary work.

It was a nice, sunny, Saturday morning when there was a tapping on Hermione's bedroom window. Jerking her head up from the Charles Dickens book that she was reading, Hermione saw an owl tapping on her window with its beak. With a wave of her wand, the window opened by itself and the owl swooped it, setting itself down at the foot of Hermione's bed. It then proceeded to walk (or waddle; which was perhaps more appropriate) up the length of the bed until it reached Hermione's elbow. The owl hooted and dropped the letter at Hermione's arm.

"Thank you," Hermione said, stroking the owl a little bit on its feathery head before it bowed and flew out the window.

Hermione put her book down and picked up the newly delivered letter. She opened it and a cascade of gold and red glitter plunged onto her white blanket.

"What the ..." Hermione muttered, pulling out the contents of the letter. It was a rumpled piece of cardboard folded in half with smudged green glitter glue on the front and a star arranged from macaroni on the front. Hermione smiled; it was her first Christmas card of the year. And a hand made one at that. She opened it.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you this time of year?_

_I'm fine – David and the kids are having heaps of fun, and Anastasia just got her first tooth. It was a nightmare when it was coming, but now that she has it, she just can't help biting into anything; even if it's my patience!_

_David got a promotion and now he's the personal assistant of Penelope Boggly - the junior head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry._

_Anyhow, this wouldn't be a proper Christmas card without a proper Christmas greeting. May your Christmas be as delightful as life itself and may your new year be as good (or even better) than this one._

_Lots of love,_

_Lavender and the rest of the Phoggy family_

_P.S. David Junior insisted that he make the Christmas card for you._

_P.P.S. We must get together some time and catch up._

Hermione smiled. She hadn't heard from Lavender in ages; but she was glad that she was enjoying life. Back during Hogwarts days, Lavender was more likely to backstab a friend for the sake of a boyfriend and talked about nothing but clothes. These days, Lavender was dealing with a teething child instead of thinking of ways to sabotage Pansy Parkinson – not that Hermione had ever objected to that.

Hermione folded the card, put it back into its envelope and stuck it in her nightstand. It wasn't as if Lavender was her best friend; that position obviously belonged to Harry and the other one, but it was nice to hear from her. Other than that, Hermione knew that Lavender didn't send her anything else for the rest of the year. And she always wrote that the two of them should meet and gossip girlishly, yet she never did anything about it. Maybe she expected Hermione to do something first

The weeks that had passed were boring, to say the least. Nothing new happened – Draco was still flirting profoundly with Tammy and went to any means to impress her, Harry visited her office daily to talk, Hermione was always buried beneath a mountain of paperwork and scheduled meetings and her and Draco seemed to be fighting more and more often, if that were possible.

But in the terms 'nothing new happened', there was bound to have been something that had been overlooked or skipped. And of course, there was.

Even though Draco was still flirting with Tammy at every given opportunity (Hermione often scowled at him when he shot out random, insulting bits in French at poor Tammy), it only gave him a leeway to ask her out more and more. And with those 'more and more' dates, Hermione found herself distancing herself more than she would have usually distanced from the memory of the ... incident and searching more frantically for vodka, or anything else that could have gotten her drunk; very quickly. Of course she didn't like Draco. Oh, goodness no, that would have been terribly sick of her (but she didn't think that Tammy was sick or twisted – the fact that she was dating Draco and God knows what else was sick and twisted). But Hermione could never shake that teeny weeny, ever so slight jealous feeling. She didn't know where it came from. Or how she got it. Or even why it was there. What she did know was that she didn't like Draco at all.

No; of course not.

That was extremely absurd. Not to mention completely ridiculous; and disgusting.

Moving on from Draco (not everything revolved around him; as much as he liked to think so), Harry also had undergone some changes – physical and emotional.

Olivia, Harry's ex-girlfriend (remember her?), had recently taken him back. Of course, Harry was over the moon about this somewhat miraculous occurrence and had taken the liberty to spoil her silly with expensive presents and showering her with comments. He was in his best form ever, going to the gym, wearing cologne and tackling more work than usual with ease. He was sweet and romantic and nice but hardworking. In summary: Harry had turned from a buffed slob with a dangerous job into a buffed metrosexual with a dangerous job.

Hermione only noticed this because Harry was her best friend, and she felt happy for him and his newfound image. He was finally turning his romantic life around, and Hermione couldn't have been happier.

But in the end, the expensive presents and showering of comments eventually got to Olivia. Apparently, Harry had raised her self esteem and self confidence to the state of narcism, and therefore Olivia was absolutely convinced that she had enough charisma to charm any guy that she wanted. Which meant that she had to ditch Harry-the-definition-of-a-metrosexual-with-a-dangerous-job (well not really had to; Olivia had been quoted saying that Harry was "just the roadblock to bigger and better things") and ran off with Mitch; Mitch-the-definition-of-heterosexual-with-a-dangerous-appetite-but-legal-access-to-a-fortune.

Harry was obviously crushed and sought refuge in Hermione's office for a number of days afterwards, which was good, mostly because Draco was always outside saying that Tammy had a disfigured face in French. He – Harry – had spent countless hours sitting in a squishy arm chair staring out of one of Hermione's many windows with a wistful but defeated look on his face. It seemed that he had obviously swallowed too many tears in the privacy of his own abode to swallow his pride and cry in the public vicinity of the Ministry.

There had been one such day the day before.

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Harry was in the armchair that had evidently taken up a new residence next to a window and was moping again. He was leaning back into the squishiness of the chair, not caring that his shirt was getting crumpled. He was watching people walk past with their own pairs of sensible work shoes and hairstyles.

Hermione had been at her desk, her quill moving speedily across the page. Her head twisted from a document next to her to the one that she was writing.

"She's not coming back, is she, Hermione?" Harry had asked. Hermione had taken in and let out a silent breath. Harry always asked that when he had moped for long enough and decided to further torture himself.

"She is." Hermione had reassured, not looking up from the page.

"No, she isn't." Harry had insisted. He got up from the chair and sat resignedly in the remaining chair facing Hermione's desk.

"She might." Hermione had tried. She signed the page with a flourish and then laid the quill down.

"No, she won't. She wouldn't ever want a big good-for-nothing idiot like me." Harry had moaned. Hermione looked slightly dejectedly at the polished wood of her table. She had found Harry's hand resting there. She took it in her own.

"You are not a big good-for-nothing idiot." Hermione had assured Harry, squeezing his hand slightly. Harry eyed his and her hands wearily. "You're wonderful! Look at yourself, Harry. You've got a job as a high-profile Auror. You've got your own apartment. You've got a wonderful personality. You've got a fantastic sense of humour. And you have me as your best friend – that should get any girl running to you." Harry smiled weakly and squeezed back. Hermione returned both of them.

Hermione thought that Harry had been counselled enough for the day, but she was wrong. And that didn't happen very often.

"But Hermione," Harry had groaned. His hand left hers and he used it to rub his face. "I don't want anybody else but her!" Hermione felt like snapping that Olivia was an arrogant tramp who cared more for a beer swelling jerk that had access to a fortune than she did for wonderful Harry. But Hermione couldn't say that, no matter how much that she wanted to.

"I know that she's the one that you want, but you'll have to have to face the fact that one day you'll find somebody else out there that's ten times better than Olivia. Somebody who won't leave you and somebody you'll want more than her, but actually somebody that you'll get to keep."

Harry's lip had started trembling and then he suddenly flung himself at Hermione and enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"Thanks, Hermies." He said.

"You're welcome." Hermione managed to choke out with some of the last breath left in her body. "Er, Harry ... I need air."

"Oh, right." Harry disconnected himself and then absent-mindedly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Hermione smiled as she managed to start breathing again.

"Just ... thanks." Harry said sincerely before exiting the room.

After that, Harry didn't come into Hermione's office anymore to wallow in his self pity by the window. And the armchair was eventually moved back into its previous and rightful position in front of Hermione's desk.

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Hermione turned over in bed and then got out. Now she had to clean her glittery blanket.

She found it rather annoying that Lavender was the same age as her, but was already married to a nice man and had two kids. But that would have meant on average a year and half of pregnancy and child birth and a marriage that would have spanned two years so far. Hermione snorted; trust Lavender to get married at 19.

"_Claero_!" Hermione said half-heartedly, waving her wand and watching as the glitter disappeared.

Even though Lavender had probably married at 19 and was more a teen bride just surviving the hormonal flying period of puberty, Hermione thought to herself at how it was. Both women were 23 years of age. One was married and had two kids. The other was married to her job. The first had sacrificed her career and future partying with girlfriends to settle down before she reached mid-twenties. The second had also sacrificed partying and future partying with girlfriends for her career. It was times like these, when her brain wasn't tackling enough hard hitting problems that it focused onto Hermione's personal ones. When her brain was like this and Hermione found herself analysing her life, a small part of her wanted to pry open the bars of the occupational prison and run wild whilst her morals and her version of common sense tried to police it.

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HUNGRY.

H.U.N.G.R.Y.

HUNGRY!!

The word kept repeating itself over and over in Draco's head. He needed food. Now.

He headed to the kitchen with a stalking gaze in his eyes.

It was Draco's way of thinking; like it was programmed into him or something. Whatever he wanted would keep repeating itself again and again in his mind and wouldn't stop until he was satisfied. Of course, being born into an aristocratic and rich family that deprived its members of nothing was also quite helpful. Draco was fortunate enough to get whatever he had wanted. And he would have still been able to get whatever he wanted if his mother hadn't have shipped him off to live with mudblood Granger. And for the sake of protecting her! It was as if some random person off the street had plucked him and Hermione and started their own twisted tale with them.

Draco snorted as he opened the fridge door and pulled out anything that hadn't gone mouldy (which was actually nothing - Hermione kept her fridge clean and organised and the food edible, which suited Draco just fine). He was actually still amazed by the fridge. When he first saw a fridge, he was mocking muggles for their rather ignorant way of storage. True, he had never seen the house elves prepare his meals, and he never intended to. And, true, once again, that the food that his 'family' didn't consume was thrown out. But that was obviously not wasting - after all, if a Malfoy had rejected it, then it was obviously wasn't even fit for house elves.

As he made himself a bowl of cereal and some fruit salad, Draco smirked another one of his trademark smirks. It was a fact that he was a rather excellent cook. Lucius would have never approved, most likely calling it 'slave work' and something 'un-Malfoy'. That was the only reason that Narcissa paid for classes when Lucius was rotting in Azkaban. Draco had obviously rose to first in class (of course; he was a Malfoy) and soon was ready to prepare anything with enthusiasm and great skill. He also found that it was a fantastic girl-magnet.

Not that he needed one in the first place.

Leaving all the preparation tools and extra food on the kitchen bench, Draco sat himself down at the dining table and started reading The Daily Prophet.

He could have easily prepared himself and Hermione a delectable dinner with entrees and dessert. Then he wouldn't have to conjure up sandwiches and salad. And Hermione wouldn't have to rely on the microwave so much. But he didn't. He liked seeing Hermione struggle at anything; and cooking seemed to be the thing that Hermione struggled at the most. So by keeping her under the impression that he couldn't cook, he could watch Hermione fail at something for once in his life. It was hilarious.

Just as he had finished this thought, Hermione stepped into the kitchen and sighed when she saw the mess that Draco had created on the bench. She turned to find him gobbling up cereal, fruit salad and reading news articles.

"Aren't you house trained?" she asked him crossly as she waved her wand. The mess cleaned itself up and Hermione started rummaging through the fridge.

"Why; finally want to start that hands-on experience?" Draco asked, not even looking up from the newspaper. Hermione rolled her eyes and scanned the fridge once again. The situation was dismal; she always seemed to buy groceries, but they either disappeared because Draco ate them all or they had gone off. Sure, the stuff in her fridge was edible, but they could hardly constitute for a meal. Most of the things were sauces and random bits of fruit and vegetables.

"No, actually," Hermione replied bitingly, making her own bowl of cereal and then exiting the kitchen. There was no way that she was going to voluntarily sit near Draco.

"Aww, now Granger, there's no need to get stuffy about that." Draco looked up from the paper and turned around to eye Hermione. Hermione gave him a sarcastic look and started eating her breakfast.

"About what, exactly?" Hermione asked in between swallows of cereal.

"The experience," Draco purred, getting up from his seat. Hermione snorted.

"Here's an experience for you, Malfoy." Hermione said pleasantly. "How about you stick your head in the microwave and press 'Start' and stay there for a little while?" The Christmas spirit will always fill everybody.

"Ooh, feisty these days, aren't you?" Draco asked, slinking towards Hermione.

"Only when you're around," Hermione replied.

"Glad to see that I've created such a wonderful impact." Draco smiled fakely.

"Shouldn't the microwave be in use right now?" Hermione asked.

"Not as such, no." Draco replied. He was now right behind Hermione.

"I wish that you'd stop trying to look down my shirt, you disgusting beast." Hermione said, buttoning up the rest of her buttons.

"Talking dirty now, are we?" Draco asked smugly.

"Don't you have something with two legs and below the age of 60 to shag?" Hermione asked. She raised her cereal filled spoon to her mouth.

"Yes, I do actually." Draco said, his arms tying themselves around Hermione's neck. He rested his head on top of hers.

"Get off me, Malfoy." Hermione said stiffly, the spoon stopping dead in its tracks.

"No, I quite like it in this position." Draco smirked.

"If you don't get off, your head is going to be in the microwave for a long time as little pieces." Hermione persisted. The spoon remained stuck in its path.

"I told you that you're feisty these days." Draco said, not budging from his position.

"And I told you that if you don't move then I will have no other choice than to behead you." Hermione retaliated calmly.

"Fine, Granger." Draco unhooked his arms and Hermione's spoon continued its journey. Draco went back to his own breakfast. "But if you ever need that hands-on experience … I'm only a couch away."

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The days gradually passed and Hermione's apartment went under a seasonal change. Now next to the fireplace there was an authentic Christmas tree, decorated with baubles and other little trinkets. Christmas cards wishing Hermione a great holiday and an equally great new year appeared on top of the television. The top of each doorway had red and gold tinsel decorated on it (Hermione had laughed inwardly at Draco's disgust at the choice of colours). And almost every day, a package would arrive from Hermione's mother, containing mince pies and Christmas cookies. It really was a wonderful Christmas, if it not had been for Draco.

Even though Draco was handsome enough to maintain his status as playboy (albeit playboy-on-slight-vacation-for-work-reasons these days), he always managed to quash the Christmas spirit. Whether it was destroying all the tinsel every day or transfiguring Christmas cards to say 'Have a Stinking Holiday' and 'Seasons Greetings, Mudblood', Draco seemed to have enjoyed being quite the scrooge.

But Hermione ignored all this (killing people wasn't exactly in the Christmas spirit) and persevered on being chirpily festive. And besides, hopefully one day one of Draco's spells would backfire and transfigure him into a Christmas cookie. That way, in Hermione's eyes, it would make him at least look slightly appealing.

And in true tradition, all the employees in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement office gathered together another time for their annual Christmas party. Each year, Hermione was required to make a speech. And this year was no different.

"Writing yet another love letter for me?" Draco asked, sneaking up on Hermione in the dining room as he had left the television on.

"No, actually," Hermione replied crisply. "I'm writing a speech for tonight's Christmas party."

"Breathtaking. I'm so very interested in your life." Draco said in a bored voice. He sat back down on the couch and noticed that he was playing around with the cushion tassels again.

"You're the one who asked me." Hermione continued. Her quill stopped as she tried to think of what else to say.

"Don't you ever get tired from blaming other people for your mistakes?" Draco asked, abandoning the tassels to lean back against the couch.

"Don't you ever get tired from being such an asshole?" Hermione asked as her quill went back into motion.

"Swearing? At this time of year?" Draco asked, tilting his head slightly. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Granger."

"Being such an arrogant and immature brat all year?" Hermione reacted. "You should admit yourself into St Mungos, Malfoy. That way at least Christmas would become perfect."

"Ahh yes, but how can I protect you when I'm in the loony bin with Longbottom and those Patil girls?" Draco asked. He stretched himself out like he owned the place.

"It's hardly protecting, Malfoy." Hermione spat. "All you do is sit outside my office and flirt with Tammy. And I can hear what you've been saying, and I'm telling you that I don't like the sound of it."

"An eavesdropping voyeur? Why, Granger, I'm flattered." Draco pinned his hands to his chest lazily.

"Oh, quiet you." Hermione barked. "I've heard what you've said to Tammy in French; and it's definitely not funny."

"I know that you're desperate for a love life, but there's really no reason as to why you're trying to crack into Tammy's." Draco drawled.

"I am not desperate for a love life!" Hermione objected. She slammed the quill onto the table. "I'm just saying that calling Tammy an insane idiot isn't funny."

"On the contrary," Draco smiled lazily, "it is. So don't go being all fou about it." Hermione let out a frustrated groan and sat back down at the table.

"I'm not in the mood, Malfoy." Hermione grumbled, getting back to her speech.

"You're the one who started it." Draco said childishly.

"No, I wasn't!" Hermione's temper was flaring. At this rate, her speech would never be finished. "Look, just ... shut up. I'm trying to write a speech and this constant bickering isn't helping."

"'Shut up', eh?" Draco waggled his eyebrows.

"Yes." Hermione replied. An idea struck her and she started writing again.

"Do you remember the last time that somebody was told to 'shut up'?" Draco asked. Hermione almost dropped her quill.

"I do, actually." Hermione said, writing slower. "The person eventually did become quiet. And I wish that you would do so as well."

"Wishful thinking." Draco snorted. "But do you remember anything that happened before that person became quiet?"

"They were threatened rather well." Hermione said. She didn't want to be the person who reminded both of them what had happened. Not that both of them actually needed reminding; they both seemed pretty clued up on what had gone on.

"Nothing after that?" Draco was getting up again and Hermione ignored him. She couldn't be distracted again. Her quill started walking across the parchment. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope." she said simply. The quill was running.

"Hrm ... then I think that I'm in a place to remind you." He was walking to her again. "It starts with a 'k', Granger. Are you familiar with the letter 'k'?"

"Yes, I am." Hermione smiled pleasantly. "You see, the letter 'k' starts off such wonderful words such as 'killing' and 'kick'."

"Nothing else?" Draco asked. Hermione wasn't even aware that he was approaching; her quill was still feverishly going across the paper. "How about another word that starts with 'ki'?"

"Killjoy." Hermione replied. Reading practically every single in the library hadn't left her without a very much extended vocabulary.

"Then why not a 'kis' word?" Draco was watching Hermione's reaction.

"Kismet." Hermione supplied, smirking internally.

"What?" Draco was momentarily sidetracked.

"Kismet." Hermione repeated. "It means a person's dest-"

"I know what it means!" Draco snapped. He regained his composure, though, and continued playing games with Hermione. "No other words?"

Hermione's quill kept on going. She knew that there was no other word in the dictionary that began with 'kis' unless it had the word 'kiss' in it. (A/N: Debatable?) And she wasn't going to be the one to say it.

"I'll give you a hint." Draco's grey arms sparkled mischievously. He had reached Hermione and was now extremely close to her face. The quill had stopped. Just like the spoon.

Hermione knew that she should have been repulsed at this act. She knew that she should have gotten up, slapped Draco in the face and call him a dirty bastard before throwing all of his possessions out of the window; and him as well if the window would permit. She knew that she should have kicked Draco, or at the very least lean back. But even though she knew that she should have done one of those things, Hermione couldn't move. It was hypnotic in a way. She wanted to move, but she was glued to the spot. There was an odd pounding in her ears. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

"K-" Draco closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Hermione's. And surprisingly, Hermione didn't move. "-I-" Draco moved his lips. Everything was getting slower for Hermione. She didn't even move her own lips, and it didn't look like that she was going to. She was both stunned and weirdly calm at the same time. "-S-" A tender move of soft lips. There was an ink blot on the paper. "-S." One last movement before Draco pecked her on the lips.

And it was over.

Draco's lips left Hermione's and he stood up.

"Your ink is blotting." he said before he went to kitchen.

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Hermione didn't talk to Draco after that.

She knew that she should have; or at least acknowledged his presence. But she didn't.

To tell the absolute truth, Hermione didn't know what to think or do. There she had been, writing her speech when Draco Malfoy went up to her and kissed her. And she didn't fight him off or do anything. She just sat there stiffly as Draco moved his lips around hers. She wasn't frantic, and things were moving slower to her. She wasn't even sure if she enjoyed it or not. Most probably not though, mainly because:

1. It was Draco Malfoy.

2. She was too stunned to do anything.

3. Draco was with Tammy.

OH, GOD.

Hermione had completely forgotten about Tammy. The guilt flooded in. She had kissed (or had been kissed) by Tammy's boyfriend. She had betrayed one of her best friends in an unimaginable way. She felt disgusted with herself. And she felt sick.

'It can't be my fault,' Hermione tried to convince herself as she locked her bedroom door. 'After all, it was that creep who forced himself onto me.' She felt slightly better until another voice interrupted.

'Excuse me, but he didn't FORCE himself onto you.' a voice said in her mind.

'Yeah, I guess that that's true.' Hermione noted grimly to herself. She went to her closet and pulled out a pretty but conservative black dress.

'And you didn't do anything about it, either.' the voice continued. Hermione sighed as she changed into the dress.

'Yeah, that's true too ...' Hermione agreed. She zipped herself up.

'What; not defending your hero these days?' the voice asked the other usually present and argumentative voice.

'Well I can't, really.' the voice piped up. 'I'm sorry, Hermione darling, but there isn't really much to be said.'

'That's alright.' Hermione thought as she pulled on some simple black high heels. They were a good inch taller than her usual sensible work shoes, and they went with nearly every occasion.

Hermione put on a holly broach that she had found the day before and also added a red and green scrunchie to her hair. She then grabbed her clutch - a satiny green and red creation.

"We're leaving." she said curtly to a bored looking Draco as she checked her pulled up hair.

He was wearing a slightly tight knitted green turtleneck sweater and a pair of tailored black pants. Not quite as festive as Hermione, but she absent-mindedly figured that this meant that Draco could look like a Slytherin and celebrate Christmas as well. His hair was its usually organised, silky mess and his black leather shoes were polished. (A/N: Lol, I had considered noting that there was a giant reindeer's head knitted onto the front of Draco's sweater, but I adore Colin Firth too much to picture him as Draco Malfoy. And besides, could you really picture Draco in a reindeer sweater; a metrosexual like him? I think not.)

Draco got up from the couch and followed Hermione around her apartment with an unreadable expression on his face as she checked that everything was secure and locked. When she had finished, she took a pinch of Floo Powder and threw it into the fire.

"There isn't usually a fireplace at the office, but I had to put one specially in. It's only connected to my house though." Hermione said politely. She grabbed her speech and stepped into the green fire. She could have sworn that she saw the slightest of smiles on Draco as he eyed the colour of the flames. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic."

And she disappeared.

Draco took one more sweeping look of the apartment before throwing his own pinch of powder. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic."

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The office was buzzing with merry workers, all wearing different assortments of Christmas decorations and all having a bit too many drinks. The office was decorated with tinsel, Christmas trees and there was even a sly patch of Mistletoe hanging from a corner. It was the office Christmas party - a time when somebody (usually somebody who did photocopying) would eventually get up onto the desk and start singing their own version of Jingle Bell Rock with a flute of chardonnay precariously balanced in their hand whilst they themselves wobbled dangerously around on the table.

"Hermione!" Harry appeared holding a flute of chardonnay. "Glad to see that you've made it."

"No, Harry, I was going to escape a Christmas party for a department of which I am the head of." Hermione said sardonically.

Harry laughed. "Well good to have you here all the same." He winked at her as he pulled out a box from inside his suit pocket. "Merry Christmas." It would have been perfect if Draco had not also appeared. Harry's smile wavered slightly as Draco gave him an arrogant look before he stalked off.

But Hermione saw none of this. She was too busy opening her gift; fiddling around with the gold bow. Finally when all the wrapping came off (Hermione made sure that it was placed safely inside a bin), Hermione held in her hands a simple navy blue rectangular box. She opened it.

"Oh, wow, Harry!" Hermione said in awe. Inside the box was a gorgeous (and obviously outrageously priced) silver necklace. Differently coloured tear drop shaped jewels hung off of the chain and sparkled wonderfully in the light. The one directly in the middle was a glittering ruby.

"I thought that you might like it." Harry said, shrugging. He acted like he didn't really care, but on the inside he was brimming with happiness because she accepted it.

"It's beautiful!" Hermione exclaimed. She gave Harry a bear hug. "Thanks, Harry."

"You're welcome." Harry smiled and he took the necklace. "Would you like to wear it now?"

"Of course!" Hermione turned around and Harry put it on her.

"There." he said, smiling again.

"Thank you again." Hermione repeated, giving Harry another hug. Now she felt overwhelmingly guilty for the second time that day because she hadn't bought him a gift in return. Well she had, mentally, but she hadn't actually gone out and physically bought the gift that she had intended on getting him. Malfoy proved quite a distraction.

'A good one or a bad one?' the evil voice in her head piped up.

'Be quiet.' the good voice said.

"Harry!" There was a call from the mingling office workers and Hermione came face to face with a pretty brunette about the same height as her. She was wearing a less ... conservative dress which was also black and wore sophisticated black heels.

"Oh, hey." Harry said as he kissed the girl on the head. Hermione smiled. She was glad that Harry had moved on from that horrid, wretched -- "Hermione, this is Olivia. Olivia, this is Hermione." -- Wonderfully nice and charming Olivia.

"Hello." Hermione said pleasantly, absent-mindedly toying with her new necklace. "Very nice to meet you." Even though Hermione had undergone many hours of helping Harry get over his heartbreak of Olivia, she had never actually met the woman. But now here she was in the flesh.

"Likewise." Olivia replied pleasantly. She turned to Harry and Hermione looked away, trying to find where the wine carriers were. "Harry, darling, I'm going to get some wine. Maybe later we can discuss the crystal and diamond affair ...?" Maybe Hermione would have some wine later.

"Of course." Harry grinned, kissing Olivia on the cheek. Olivia's smiled.

"Nice to have met you, Hermione." she said before leaving. Even though her smile was angelic, Hermione knew that inside, Olivia's intentions were worthy of devil horns and a matching trident.

"So ... what do you think?" Harry asked eagerly. Hermione wished that he hadn't have said that; she just about to gather up her guts and tell Harry about the real Olivia when he had asked that question.

"She's ... great." Hermione managed. "Wait; what happened to Mitch?"

"I don't know." Harry said genuinely. He shrugged. "He just seemed to have disappeared off of the scale or something."

"Or maybe he ran out of money." Hermione muttered to herself, playing around with the centre ruby on her necklace.

"What was that?" Harry asked, taking another sip of his chardonnay.

"Oh, nothing." Hermione said, flashing Harry an Olivia smile. Poor Harry. Poor, unassuming, dumb Harry. He never seemed to see what was really on the agenda when women smiled nicely or did something fake.

"Speaking of nothing," Harry brought his lips up again to the drink, "where is Malfoy?"

"I don't know." Hermione said sincerely. "I hope he stays that way." Harry laughed.

"We have connections, remember?" he reminded, tapping his nose. This time Hermione laughed. Harry looked around before resuming talk. "Have you seen Tammy lately?"

"No." Hermione said. It was true that she hadn't seen Tammy as of late; she only knew that Malfoy was probably snogging her in his spare time (which was probably all the time). "Why, has she disappeared ...?"

"No, no! It's just that she's really, really chirpy these days." Harry said. He took another sip of chardonnay.

"Chirpy?" Hermione asked through slightly gritted teeth. "I wonder why."

Hermione was surprised at her own behaviour. Here she was being an absolute cow about a situation that she should have been happy about. She was gritting her teeth for goodness' sake! She hadn't done that since seventh year when she was on the verge of insanity when studying for her N.E.W.T.s. Hermione scolded herself mentally for comparing Tammy and Draco canoodling with her career choosing exams.

"Yes, I wonder too." Harry said, overlooking yet again the hidden woman agenda.

Maybe this was the time for wine.

"Hey, Harry, do you want to come with me to get some --" Hermione started for the direction of the nearest wine carrier.

"Oh my goodness." Harry interrupted her.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. She turned to face the direction of Harry's eyes.

There, under the sly patch of Mistletoe in a corner, was Tammy and Draco. And they were kissing each other. Not in the 'All I want for Christmas is you' way, either. It was more the 'All I want for Christmas is a shag' way.

_Definately_ the time for wine.

"Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick." Harry said before quickly turning away.

"I'm getting wine. Come with me." Hermione said, and she practically dragged Harry over to the wine carrier. She took a flute off of the carrier's tray.

"Luckily we were the only two who saw something." Harry said as he watched Hermione drink the alcohol steadily.

"Great, so we're the only ones scarred for life." Hermione said, bringing the flute back to her lipstick red lips. She didn't really need to mention the fact that Draco had snogged her on two previous occasions. They were minor details, really.

"Erm, I think you should lay off the drinks." Harry said, gently but firmly grabbing the flute and bringing it down.

"It's only one glass, Harry." Hermione reassured. "And besides, it's me. ME! HERMIONE GRANGER. Do you really think that I'm going to get drunk at the office Christmas party?"

"Well not every Christmas party has us witnessing Malfoy snog-" Harry met the look in Hermione's eyes. "-Erm, no. Of course not. You're Hermione; designated floo girl."

"A role that I was born to play." Hermione said. The alcohol was relaxing her slightly. "And don't worry if I have a drink, Harry. I'm allowed to have it, aren't I? It's Christmas! Don't worry; it's only one glass."

It wasn't only one glass.

After Hermione had (soberly) delivered her head of department speech, she had witnessed with Harry Draco snogging Tammy quite animatedly underneath the mistletoe again.

"Can you really do that with your body?" Harry had asked as he tilted his head to the right.

But whilst Harry was too busy wondering the flexibility of the human body, Hermione had found herself more wine. And 'only one glass' had turned into 'only ten glasses'. And even though it would take a long time to drink ten glasses of wine, Harry wouldn't have noticed because he had been distracted by Olivia, who had found her own patch of mistletoe in the corner. So Hermione decided to have her own Christmas party in her office - the guests of honour being her, a bottle of chardonnay and a champagne glass.

It wasn't like Hermione to drink heavily. She was always the one who annoyed her friends about the consequences of alcohol and such. But the motto of drinking and letting go at Christmas and having fun seemed to have really impacted Hermione, if not too much. With each drink she told herself that she was having a great time, and that the party was a sort of way to compensate for all the missed nights of clubbing. That logic would have been ridiculous to Hermione if she wasn't shooting down alcohol every ten seconds. But she WAS shooting down alcohol every ten seconds; and so she figured that that logic was perhaps the best in the world. Apparently alcohol gives you confidence AND an inflated ego.

Good thing her office door was locked.

As the night drew on, Hermione had a bigger and bigger urge to get onto her desk and start dancing around. But there obviously was some part of the old, sober Hermione in there that urged her not to. And old, sober Hermione had won.

But just barely.

Besides; Gary Tanner had done the honours anyway.

When the last Christmas cracker had popped and the last flute of drink had been downed, everybody left the office, exchanging last minute goodbyes and wishing each other merry Christmases and happy new years. One person they couldn't find, however, was Hermione. She was still locked in her office trying to find out if there was any alcohol left. People merely assumed that she was in there in order to get some last minute work done, and they privately thought of her as crazy (for skipping the Christmas party for paperwork) and dedicated (for skipping the Christmas party for paperwork). So everybody well-wished through Hermione's office door, to receive a drunken (which they interpreted as stressed and tired) "You too."

When everybody had gone, Draco was the only one left aside from Hermione.

"Granger?" he called in a tired voice into the empty department.

"You too." came the reply from Hermione's office. Draco smirked slightly and headed for the door. He tried the doorknob but the door wouldn't budge. Draco whipped out his wand.

"Alohomora." he said. The lock clicked open. "Granger -"

He found Hermione sitting in her squishy armchair, legs on the table. Her high heels had obviously been kicked off clumsily; one had ended up in Hermione's plot plant and another one was upside down on top of the filing cabinet. Her dress was hitched up her leg slightly, and she had taken out her fancy hair do. Draco noticed the tell tale signs of an empty wine bottle and a very much used (the whole rim of the glass was covered in lipstick) champagne glass. Draco folded his arms and shook his head. Hermione replied with big brown eyes. She was obviously too drunk to notice that she had practically flashed Draco in the middle of a deserted apartment.

"Come on, Granger." Draco said gruffly, not budging from his spot.

"You too." Hermione replied with a silly smile on her face. Draco sighed and then moved towards her. It was obvious that she wasn't going to talk properly, let alone walk.

"You're going home." Draco said, picked up the wine bottle.

"No!" Hermione grabbed the bottle and jerked it down to the table. The shocking show of strength managed to drag Draco down onto the table.

"Ow!" he said, rubbing his cheek. "Careful, Granger."

"You too." Hermione giggled. Draco groaned irritably and got up.

"Alright, Granger, it's time for you to get back to your dwelling."

"You too." Hermione said. She laughed. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Can't you say anything else?"

"Yeah!" Hermione said. She laughed again. "'Yeah!' That was anything else, wasn't it?"

"Look, you're clearly drunk, Granger." Draco went over to her and prepared to scoop her up. "So now it's time for you to go bed."

"I need my shoes to do that." Hermione said. She put the champagne glass in her view and moved her hand around behind it. "Wow; my hand looks so ... cool."

"You don't need shoes to go to bed." Draco insisted, he went to pick her up, but Hermione shook him off.

"Yes I do. Black ones." she said. Draco realised that she meant the heels she had flung off.

"Accio heels." he said and the shoes zoomed toward him. "Now can we go?"

"Yep, yep." Hermione said. She set the glass and bottle down. Draco went to pick her up, but Hermione stopped him. "I'm fine!" she reassured with a dopey look on her face. She got up from the desk and immediately topped over.

"Woah!" Draco said. He stooped down to her level. "Are you alive?" he asked. It was the closest he was going to get in asking her if she was alright.

"Alive? Of course I'm alive!" Hermione insisted. "The question is ... are YOU?" She tried getting up again.

"No, you're not doing that." Draco said. Hermione slipped on the heels and tried walking again. Draco doubted whether Hermione could manage to walk with high heels if she had just fallen over from trying to walk with no shoes on. "Look, just let me do my ... 'job', Granger. If you die, I don't get my pay."

"I told you!" Hermione said. "I'm not dead; I'm ALIVE!"

"Yes, of course you are." Draco said in a patronising tone. He scooped her up with a slight flinch. He may have snogged her twice before, but that didn't make him stop reacting when he touched her. "C'mon." Hermione wasn't as heavy as he had anticipated.

They exited Hermione's office and even in her drunken state, she still managed to lock it appropriately. Draco carried her to the fireplace and made her throw in a pinch of Floo Powder.

"Granger, Harbour St, London." Hermione said in an oddly clear voice. Draco stuck her in the flames and she was whisked off.

"Granger, Harbour St, London." Draco said after throwing in some of the powder. He stepped into the fire.

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The first thing that Draco saw when he arrived at Hermione's house was a cat.

Was it really a cat?

Obviously not; Draco had just landed on it and there didn't seem to be any heartbeat or anything.

No, it was just Hermione's hair.

"Ow." Draco complained, getting up from the space in front of the fireplace. He picked Hermione up gruffly. "Come on, off to bed with you." He started carrying her again and her limbs dangled in the air.

"You smell nice." Hermione said, still blatantly in her drunken stupor.

"I try." Draco said.

"Do I smell nice?" Hermione's face screwed up into a pleading one.

"Of course you do." Draco smirked. Even though she smelled like chardonnay, he still liked to humour her. And anyway, it would be interesting to see how far this game would go. Draco kicked open her bedroom door.

"Doors are so stupid." she smiled.

"Sure." he agreed. Draco plonked Hermione down onto her bed.

"You know; you're really pretty." she said. Draco scoffed. "Why are you laughing?"

"I'm not pretty, Granger." Draco said. He was gorgeous; handsome; even delicious. But most definitely not pretty.

"You have a low self-esteem." Hermione said, shaking her head. Draco snorted.

"Trust me, my self-esteem isn't low." he said. Hermione kicked off her heels.

"Sure, sure, you try and fool me." she flicked her index finger at him with her eyes half closed and pulled up the blankets. "But I know your --"

And with that she fell asleep. Draco scoffed silently at the sheer weirdness of it all - he had just carried a drunken Hermione Granger to her bed and had been called pretty before she fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. And she really was friendlier when she was drunk.

Of course, Draco wouldn't have been as nice when he was drunk - he was still frost with the people he hated and smoother (if that was possible) with the women. His friends had told him so, and they knew better than to lie to Draco Malfoy. Draco frowned. They weren't really his friends though. More like underlings. He didn't really have any friends. He didn't want any either.

Did he?

He emitted a barking laughter and then pulled off his turtleneck. Friends were for the weak and the stupid. That was why Harry and Hermione never really had true, self-gained power. No; they had Professor Dumbledore to solve their every woe. He, however, had managed to climb up the truly savage power chain. In first year people thought that he was merely an 11-year-old armed with a fierce tongue, but gradually people began to group with him so they wouldn't become negatively scrutinized and then in his last years at Hogwarts, people feared him. They were scared of what he or his closer minions - Crabbe and Goyle - would have done to them if they so much as put a toe out of line.

But not the Golden Trio. They just relied on Dumbledore to protect them from the real world. They needed his twinkle of the eye and strange but somehow true advice. Co-dependence; it was something that Draco always hated.

He was like this every year at Christmas time.

Finally finding his pyjama shirt and pulling it on, Draco quickly changed his pants and then slipped under the covers. It was an alright Christmas (he didn't get any girls except for Tammy); it had been saved by Hermione's drunk talk. He would revel in that in years to come, and he would make sure that she'd never forget the way she behaved. Draco grinned wickedly.

No presents though. Not as yet, anyway. Usually Draco was armed with bagfuls of gold to go buy whatever he wanted. But not this year. This year there was just him, his couch (he had slept on it for quite a while; it was his) and Hermione.

"Bah, humbug."

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**A/N:** There you go my pretties, another chapter added to the saga that is **THE BODYGUARD**.

As this was a celebratory Christmas chapter as well as a Happy New Year chapter, it was longer than usual. How do I know? Well for one thing ONE Notepad document wouldn't hold it (I write in Notepad first and then transfer it to Word).

Anyway, I hope that you had a magical, safe and fabulous Christmas, and that you all got what you wanted (I'm still waiting for either Colin Firth or Daniel Radcliffe to appear in a parcel on my doorstep)!! Sorry that this chapter didn't come out on Christmas Eve (as I had originally planned), but my sister hogged the computer so I couldn't post it.

By the by, 'fou' means 'insane' in French, for those of you who were slightly confused and probably committed some rather random typos in the chapter.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all my spectacular reviewers. Yay - you guys cracked the 100 review mark! Dances around insanely So, I would just like to say thank you to my reviewers; you are the best ones in the world. :)

And of course, the best of the best usually receive awards. So you may claim your (belated) Christmas stocking from me if your name is: **insanemaniac**, **HGDM lova**, **IceCrystal**, **Meg**, **Christi-Lynn**, **Nubia** (who gets two for reviewing twice … psst – check out my previous authors notes for the translations), **HogwartzBoizRHottiez**, **blonde-brain**, **Becz**, **Miss Mills**, **NitenGale**, **malfoysblondie**, **xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo**, **Fiona McKinnon**, **Emerald Flame**, **SmilinStar**, **Tacroy**, **alien726** and **Tori**. YOU GUYS RULE!

Hrm ... for this chapter I think that it is appropriate that I give out classic looking red covered diaries with gold seals on the front. I know; I usually give out food, but this time I think that everybody gets a diary - to put in your New Years Resolutions, your thoughts of life, love, etc and just generally have something special. It IS "time to make a new start, perhaps" as Mark Darcy from Bridget Jones's Diary would say when him and Bridge are standing in the snow on Christmas and in love with each other and about to have one of the most romantic kisses that I've ever seen and, and, and -- Clears throat Ahem. Anyway, review and get your own diary. :)

Have yourself a Happy New Year ...

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

--**Look at moiye, ploise!**--

P.S. Hello Becka my dear. :)

P.P.S. I'm still watching you, Sophie.


	8. Flourish and Blotts

The Bodyguard

(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

Disclaimer: While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other entertainment programs, films, etc do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

Summary: She was the successful, intelligent and hard-working Ministry official. He was the partying, rich and gorgeous playboy. But when Hermione Granger is unwittingly hired a bodyguard in the form of Draco Malfoy, the people who believe that opposites attract even say that they themselves are wrong ...

Right?

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE (VERY, VERY) LATE UPDATE!! A series of extremely crappy events took place, which I will go into in the end of chapter Author's Note.

I thought that the summary needed a slight make-over; it was a bit too corny for me. Plus, apologies on the frequent Bridget Jones relations - I couldn't really find any other public figure which I knew that would be so identical to Hermione.

Oh, and sorry if I don't quite nail the hangover thingy - do you feel better for the rest of the day after you take two aspirins? I'm afraid I haven't actually had a hangover before (figures; since it would be kind of illegal of me to do so) and I wasn't going to ask my sister without getting a 20 Questions game in progress.

THE BODYGUARD

Chapter 8 - Flourish and Blotts

"Ooh, bacon!"

With a start Hermione opened her eyes. She was back in her apartment and the sun was shining quite brightly through the window. At once, Hermione shut her eyes. She usually embraced sunlight like a new best friend, but today she would have liked nothing better but to have shut the sun out. Hermione's hand slowly travelled up to her face to grip her forehead. She had the hugest throbbing headache.

There were clinking noises coming from the general vicinity of the kitchen; Hermione obviously wasn't ready to notice such silly small details such as direction when she felt this horrible in the morning. She groaned and her grip on her forehead tightened. It felt as if 3000 house elves were working, albeit unjustly, at the insides of her brain. Like she had taken a saucepan to the head the previous night and there was now a big enough bump on her head that it would soon swell to the size of Draco Malfoy's ego. Then Hermione would never be able to be ready to notice details in the morning due to the colossal size of the massive bump on her head.

Speaking of Draco ...

The frying pan sizzled as Draco tossed in a clump of butter. He swirled it around the pan before throwing in some rashers of bacon. He felt like a decent breakfast today after all those conjured up sandwiches. And besides, this was more of a celebratory feast than the first meal of the day - he had, after all, seen Hermione drunk. And he knew that both of them knew (well Hermione would soon when the headache disappeared) that Draco would never stop holding it against her.

Oh, it was going to be a lovely morning.

The bacon finished cooking and Draco cracked a few eggs. He watched as the transparant egg white slowly became opaque and he made sure that the yolk was runny. After his eggs were done, Draco served his breakfast on a large plate and poured himself some pumpkin juice before sitting down at the table and devouring his breakfast.

He had a talent for cooking; it was evident, he thought as he savoured the taste. Draco swirled the pumpkin juice around in his mouth and sighed. He had missed his cooking. After all, the house elves were the ones who did all the work around his house and not cooking at Hermione's house had been easy. But obviously Draco forgot how much he loved cooking.

When the pumpkin juice had been fully downed and the plate cleared of any food, Draco sat at the table. He half-expected house elves to clear everything or even Hermione to appear and do a simple charm that would dispose of the dishes. But this of course was all under some form of stupor that Draco had succumbed to after eating his food, and so all he wanted to do now was to sit back and sleep.

Hermione just managed to swing her legs over the side of her bed and find her dressing gown. She pulled it on and found herself feeling not as comfortable as she should have been. Her hands went down and she felt the fabric of her 'pyjamas'. It was a sythentic sort of material; not at all like her usual comfortable flannelette which she felt she could always melt into. Hermione looked down and realised that she was still wearing the dress from last night. And the obviously-outrageously-priced necklace as well. Hermione snorted; she had half expected that last night Draco would have grabbed it and run away to live off the money he got from pawning that necklace. That, or he could have at least hidden it.

The dull throbbing in her head grew sharper after she snorted. She tried making a weak mental note to try and warn herself never to do that again, but whenever she tried thinking her head hurt more.

And then she felt the most horrible feeling. It was like as if she was spinning on some sort of demon ride that wouldn't stop. She could feel the chemicals mixing around in that already damaged brain of hers.

She needed to puke.

Frantic scramblings to the bathroom were followed with frantic scramblings backwards to the bedroom (first take off the obviously-outrageously-priced necklace) which was met with more frantic scramblings back towards the bathroom.

Draco sniggered in his full state and smiled. Hermione Granger had finally experienced her first bout of a hangover. He knew that it was her first one too, he had figured that the closest that Hermione had done to getting drunk and passing out on the couch was drink the occasional butterbeer in a Three Broomsticks booth. Well, before last night anyway.

He picked up the previously abandoned fork on the table and started tapping it against his breakfast plate. Soon the knife joined in as well and Draco gladly entertained himself for quite some time by tapping random patterns on the plate.

Hermione came out of the bathroom wiping her mouth and feeling generally horrible. And that horrible sharp tapping noise wasn't doing much for her head either. She found Draco in the kitchen smirking up at her from the table, tapping the silverware incessantly and as loudly as he could. Hermione felt an overwhelming urge to strangle him.

"Would you stop that?" she snapped before her hand shot itself up to her head.

"No, I quite like this." Draco grinned toothily up at her and he tapped harder onto the glass.

"Stop it you prat!" Hermione said and her head let out another throb. "You're scratching the plate."

"What was that?" Draco yelled over the din of tapping cutlery.

"Malfoy I am not in the mood!" Hermione yelled and her head felt like it was going to explode.

"In the mood for what, exactly?" Draco asked, tilting his head to side.

"Never talk again ..." Hermione muttered to herself as she searched desparately for some aspirin. But first she padded over to the blinds in the kitchen and closed them. She did not need sunlight this morning.

"Tell me, Granger, what are not in the mood for this morning?" Draco asked, now abandoning the cutlery to swivel around in his chair to stare at Hermione.

"You existing." Hermione snapped quietly, shoving aside the salt shakers in her cupboard quite urgently.

"Aww don't worry; I'll cheer you up." Draco sneered and pulled out the jug of pumpkin juice from the fridge. "How about a drink to calm your nerves?"

Hermione groaned in frustration. The urge to strangle Malfoy returned and would have overpowered her if her hands were too busy searching for the aspirin. Draco set down the jug.

"No pumpkin juice?" he asked airily. "Alright then, how about some chardonnay?"

Oh, Hermione needed some chardonnay alright. Then all she needed after that was Draco Malfoy locked in a small room covered in it and a box of matches.

ASPIRIN! Hermione grabbed it as soon as she found it and rejoiced. Who knew that a little bottle could hold such joy ...

"Looking for a drink to down those tablets?" Draco asked. Hermione scowled at him sarcastically and filled a tall glass with pumpkin juice and drank practically all of it in one gulp. Now all she had to do was wait for the pills to kick in whilst she was confined to her room.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Hermione said simply as she walked back to her room.

"Popping pills, swelling alcohol and now unforgiveably rude," Draco shook his head and then tutted. "My my, a hangover really does change a person."

"Unlike you, who's always been popping pills, swelling alcohol and unforgiveably rude." Hermione said, her back retreating from Draco.

"Ooh, sharp, as always." Draco remarked sardonically. He left his plate and such on the kitchen table, not bothering to even attempt to clean it up with a simple charm. He'd rather leave Hermione to ad another thing on top of her to-do list.

And besides, it wasn't as if Draco's day was going to be free of duty. He had his own errands to run, more trouble to cause and more French insults to deliver. Yes, that's right ... today Draco Malfoy had a date.

Not that Draco scoring a date in the first place was headline news, but this was his second date. This would be a milestone in the Draco Malfoy timeline. A first experience for him. It were as if he was going to go taste a foreign food at a not-so-fancy restaurant. A nasty comparison, but a fair one from Draco's point of view.

He could not comprehend how he had gone from the nice tasting apple martinis and girls called Candy to conjured sandwiches and girls called Tammy. It were as if he had down-traded or something.

NO! Draco shook his head; what HAD he been thinking? Malfoys never down-traded; they never got kicked off the top. They were born at the top, stayed at the top, and produced children that would stay at the top. It was simply absurd to assume otherwise.

To distract himself he sat down in front of the TV and turned it on. Draco quite liked this muggle invention, though he'd die before he admitted it to another living soul. Flicking around with the remote control, Draco found nothing quite to his standards. He instead settled for a show featuring a little red 3-year-old monster with a funny voice, a ludicrously gigantic yellow bird and a brown elephant reminiscent of a woolly mammoth with equally large eyelashes. Draco snorted.

'And it's all set on some street,' he said, rolling his eyes incredulously, but not bothering to turn off the TV. The little red monster had a somewhat charismatic hold on him.

Hearing Hermione groan from the pain of her headache, Draco smirked subtly and turned up the volume. He leaned back on the couch and rested his head in his hands.

"Bastard," Hermione muttered as she heard the muffled voices from the next room growing louder. "I'm going to kill him."

"But when are you ever going to?" the mirror asked.

"I don't know ... maybe when my head's gone back to the state of sane pain activity." Hermione grumbled. She reached over to the glass she had just filled and took another swig of pumpkin juice.

"What if your head does and doesn't go back to the state of sane pain activity?" the mirror asked. Hermione screwed up her forehead.

"What?"

"I said, what if --"

"I heard what you said!" Another gulp of juice. "I just don't know what you mean."

"Well what if your head does resume normal pain activity, but you don't want to hurt dear Draco--"

"Malfoy. His name is Malfoy."

"--DRACO ever again?" Hermione stood up and walked towards the mirror.

"What?" she asked darkly.

"What if you like him?" the mirror had obviously turned evil.

"I do not like him!" Hermione denied profusely. This was sickening! She was being told that she liked Draco Malfoy of all people, by a mirror of all things!

"Sure, sure," Hermione was sure that if the mirror had a mouth it would have been smirking.

"You're just lucky that I haven't shattered you." Hermionet threatened. The mirror let out a hoarse laugh.

"And risk seven years of luck? Think again, deary. This isn't the muggle world where it's all the superstition. This is wizards world ... and knowing your kind of luck after smashing me, you wouldn't want to risk it." Hermione turned away. It was too early in the morning and she was in no way fit to be arguing with her mirror. Even if it was a smart-ass mirror that deserved a good cracking at the very least in the first place.

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Hermione sighed as the aspirin pills had finally kicked in and provided some sweet relief from all that ridiculous pain. This was nice; not puking as much and not feeling like she was about to faint from all the throbbing headaches and sensitivity to noise. She felt normal and ready for a decent breakfast, but she knew that she needed a little bit longer to survive the onslaught of Draco-friggin-Malfoy.

After a few more minutes in bed, Hermione pushed back the covers and had another drink of pumpkin juice before venturing out to the kitchen. She found Draco sitting down watching a little red monster parade around the screen. The show looked like it was suited for toddlers.

"What are you watching?" she asked innocently and Draco dropped the remote.

"A little ..." he flicked the channel and ended up with a rather boring golf game. "What the heck is this?"

"Golf; but wait a minute ... Draco Malfoy blatantly showing that he doesn't know everything on the face of the planet? I never thought that I'd see the day." Hermione smirked and crossed her arms.

"YOU'LL never see another day if you keep on talking, Granger." Draco watched the golf game with boredom. He changed the channel.

"Oh, yes, you're extremely threatening." Hermione replied dryly as she walked past him and went into the kitchen. Time to eat.

"Intimidation is the key to everything." Draco said as he secretly flicked back to the little red monster channel.

"I'm sure." Hermione rolled her eyes and made herself some cereal.

"You should be," Draco replied snootily, "a Malfoy's assumption is always the right one."

"Assumption?" Hermione asked as she poured some milk. "So there's no knowledge up in that little ferret brain of yours?"

Draco scowled. He hated being beaten by anybody - especially by such a prissy, know-it-all mudblood by the name of Hermione Granger. And to top off his luck, he saw that the little red monster program had ended, and that they were about to show another program.

Grumbling, Draco turned the TV off and stood up. He glanced at his watch and realised that he was going to be late for the foreign food at the not-so-fancy restaurant.

"I'm going," he announced as he grabbed his coat.

"Fantastic," Hermione replied. "Don't come back."

"In case you burn down the apartment with your sharp wit and intellect, I'm going on a date." Draco smirked, opening the door. "I'll be back later on."

There was a slight twinge inside of Hermione. She had no idea what it was, but it had been there all the same. It was weird, but Hermione tried ignoring it and instead started eating more rapidly.

The door closed and Hermione was left alone to finish her breakfast.

As she ate, Hermione let her own mind wander about.

Why didn't SHE have a date? Why didn't SHE have somebody to meet that was romantically interested in her? Why was SHE sitting at home alone eating soggy cereal feeling jealous because somebody else was actually pursuing their love life?

Hermione frowned and looked down into her bowl of deteriorating cornflakes floating about in her milk. She was fighting a spinster's inevitable fate. It didn't really matter that she was in her early 20's, but she figured that if she couldn't get a date in her 'prime', then how would she when she would be having her early mid-life crisis? It wasn't really logical; and Hermione thrived on logic.

But there was Bridget Jones, wasn't there? Hermione continued eyeing her cornflakes, but she wasn't really seeing them. Bridget was a 30-something London-er and managed to find gorgeous, loyal Mark Darcy and then have a happy ending. If Bridget - the woman who had a very open choice of dying alone and being found three weeks later half-eaten by Alsations - found a dream boat, surely Hermione could get a paddle and make her way to her own one ...?

But Hermione didn't have a boss. She WAS the boss. But that was so if you didn't include Arthur Weasley. Hermione didn't want to think about him at this time, though. And besides, it wasn't only because of the R-O-N situation, but more of the fact that Bridget had an affair with her boss; and Hermione having an affair with Arthur Weasley was extremely wrong on so many countless levels.

SPLOOSH! The spoon Hermione was holding fell into the cereal bowl, resulting in milk splaying out everywhere. She didn't seem to notice, though, and instead stood up as if she were the Ministress of Magic who was about to declare world peace. It was a revolution in Hermione Granger's mind. It had come to her, and dammit, it was brilliant ... BRILLIANT! It was an idea. No, not an ordinary idea, but a BRILLIANT IDEA!

Hermione Granger would get a boyfriend.

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As they strolled leisurely about in Diagon Alley, Draco and Tammy looked around at the different stores with vague interest. They had just finished a rather nice brunch at The Leaky Cauldron (Draco had obviously exploited Tammy for more food; even though he had enough money to buy the entire Leaky Cauldron) and had decided to look around the strips of magic shops.

"Do you like books?" Draco asked Tammy as they neared Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh, yes," Tammy said, in a tone that was a mixture of awe over Draco and uncertainty of what to say. "I find them delightful."

'Yep, this one really does have a pair of brains on her ...' Draco thought to himself as he pushed the door open to the bookstore.

Draco cleared his throat as he entered in an important manner. He started wondering around the store with Tammy to see if anything caught her fancy.

"Oh, God," Draco groaned beneath his breath when he saw where Tammy was leading the two of them.

"I love this book!" Tammy exclaimed as she picked up a title from underneath the sign that had the words 'Romance Spellbooks, Potions, Guides, Visuals, Herbology, Handbooks, etc' written on it with old, scratchy writing.

"It looks ... interesting." Draco said, giving the book a non-committing look without even bothering to read the title. Maybe he would give the 'Romance Visuals' section a go ...

"No; wait; this one is SO much better!" Tammy picked up another, thicker book.

"Fantastic," Draco drawled as he casually slipped into the 'Romance Visuals' section.

But he must have slipped too much by accident, for when he looked around in the section that he was in, all he saw were black leather bound books bearing blood red writing. Some were covered in rusting chains and others looked extremely old. He turned around and saw that he had wondered through a door that was marked "Staff Only" and realised that he had travelled to the restricted section of the store.

'Dark Magic Spellbooks, Potions, Guides, Visuals, Herbology, Handbooks, etc' Draco read from a scrappy label.

He smirked to himself. How appropriate it must have been for him to have walked by accident off the trail and land in the dark magic section. Draco started pacing around, looking at the different books.

"'Dark Magic Spells', 'Dark Magic Guides', 'How to be a Dark Magic Leader'," Draco's eyes feasted themselves on the many different books.

He was drawn to the Dark Magic Visuals section. On the covers of these books there were different little drawings. One book about dark magic symbols held pictures of crows, dark shaggy dogs and an eye. Another book of dark magic groups had pictures of bloody teeth, black angels and wands emitting black sparks on its cover. Draco was fascinated. (A/N: Sorry to interrupt, but please excuse me if these things aren't generally related to all things 'dark' and stuff - I must admit that I know very little on the subject. Now that my ignorance is publicly acknowledged, continue reading!)

He continued to be transfixed by these books and found the Dark Magic Spellbooks. Such titles were 'How to Entrance', 'Unforgivables: Who, What, When, Where and WHY' and 'Your Harm for Other's Self-Harm'. Draco was about to investigate these books futher when he heard Tammy's voice.

"Draco!" it called. He cursed inwardly at her for disturbing him when he was in some form of haven. He slipped out of the room and managed to sneak up behind her. He put his hands around her eyes.

"Guess who," he whispered into her ear.

"Mike! How wonderful it is too hear you again," Tammy said. Draco pulled back his hands in shock. Who has this Mike person that she was talking about? "Got ya." Tammy turned around and smiled. Draco quickly covered up his shock with amusement. She was cunning; he had to give her that.

"May I be your Mike then?" Draco asked sweetly, flashing Tammy a toothy white grin. Tammy giggled and went to give him a kiss.

Suddenly there was a crash near them. Draco and Tammy turned to look at what was happening. Somebody had knocked over a large display of books and a blonde shop assistant was going to help her.

"Isn't it funny how some people can fire spells whilst others still can't find their balance?" Draco asked Tammy, who laughed. "Just like Gran - Hermione at the office Christmas party. I had to carry her home because she was so drunk." Draco continued non-chalantly to Tammy, who's face had soured once she realised that Draco had carried another woman home. But she quickly covered it up.

Tammy laughed. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and held up the romance handbook. "I think I'm going to get this."

Draco followed her to the counter and when she was about to pay, insisted that he do the honours. He plonked some gold onto the table (Hermione had paid him in the week of the eventful Christmas party) and the cashier readily accepted it, without giving Tammy the opportunity to object.

Then the two left the store to enjoy the rest of the day together.

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Hermione sat down on her bed, deflated.

How could SHE get a boyfriend? Knowing her romantic track, he would end up leaving her to be famous for the rest of his life or just end up leaving her, full stop.

She groaned and fell back onto her bed. This was depressing. How could she think that she would be able to get a boyfriend; of all people? It was ridiculous! But then Hermione knew that she didn't need a boyfriend.

She needed ice-cream.

But after plonking down on the couch with a tub of strawberry ice cream and an extremely large spoon (actually a ladel) and about to eat her troubles away, Hermione paused. What would stuffing herself stupid achieve? Surely, it would be harder to find a man after knowing that she had just pumped herself with ice-cream in an uncontrollable spree of self-pity. She would feel guilty.

'Who cares? A man doesn't know if you've eaten a whole tub of ice-cream! Look at your metabolism - you could eat an entire Hippogriff and nobody would notice.' the reassuring voice in her head said. Convinced, Hermione started to bring the extremely large spoon/ladel down to the ice-cream.

'And what's this going to solve? You're right; if you eat an entire tub then you'll be feeling guilty and won't be able to fit in any other food that your potential boyfriend might offer.' The second voice said. Hermione put the extremely large spoon/ladel down. As much as she hated to admit it, the second voice was right.

She put the ice-cream back into the freezer and put the extremely large spoon/ladel back in its rightful place. Then she went to her room and changed into a cute little sundress which Tammy influenced her to buy when they went muggle shopping in London.

Hermione then locked her apartment and Apparated to The Leaky Cauldron.

"Miss Granger!" Tom said from behind the counter. "How nice to see you again."

"Hi, Tom," Hermione smiled.

"Anything you'd like?" he asked, polishing a glass.

"Oh, no thanks. I was thinking of nipping off to Diagon Alley." Hermione replied. "See you!"

"See you," Tom gave her a toothy grin and then resumed polishing the glass.

Hermione tapped on the magic brick and the doorway slowly opened. The bricks re-arranged themselves into an archway and Hermione, satisfied, stepped through it.

Then she stopped.

Where DO you go when you want to meet men?

Hermione had to admit that she had never gone guy-scoping in Diagon Alley - or anywhere - before. Should she have stayed in the Leaky Cauldron?

An image of a hag chatting her up entered her head and she decided that the Leaky Cauldron was off limits.

Quality Quidditch Supplies? No; there would be sport crazed men in there who probably didn't care about anything else.

Gringotts? Now that was really stretching it. Goblins didn't quite make ideal boyfriends.

Flourish and Blotts?

Hermione smiled. Of course! She was bookish and smart, wasn't she? She wanted an intelligent man that she could hold a decent and thought-provoking conversation with, didn't she? Yes - Flourish and Blotts was perfect!

When she pushed open the door of Flourish and Blotts, she was greeted with the familiar smell of new books. She loved that smell; it reminded her of knowledge yet to be learnt and words yearning to be read. She ran her eyes over the vast rows and bookshelves packed with different books on different subjects. Hermione didn't know what to do - look through the books or find a man. Maybe she could do both ...?

She looked around. There didn't seem to be any men browsing along in the store. In fact, there weren't much customers at all; and they were mostly women. Hermione should have been disappointed about this lack of males, but she had books here to comfort her. And books always made her feel better.

Where to begin? Which books to pick up and read about? Finally she decided that she would go to the romance section. It was awfully corny of her - she was never the school girl sitting in the common room corner with her girlfriends giggling over the prospect of a love potion. And besides, she knew the strict penalties that would have been inforced if she had actually brewed such a potion.

But it just seemed appropriate to go to the romance section when she was looking for a boyfriend. She looked through the many books offering guidance in all the sections of magical romances. Her fingers ran over the many different covers of the books as she scanned for something that was remotely interesting.

Then she saw it - 'Prince Charming: Finding Your Perfect Wizard Love'. Hermione picked it up immediately and turned it over so she could read the back.

'Verity Hart offers an insight for all those single witches out there with her book about entrancing the right man, the perfect man, for life. Met somebody new? Take the fail-proof quizes available and find out if you're meant to be! Already with somebody but the spark is running out? Read the articles, references and hints for bringing the spice back into your love life! About to commit full-time? Look at -'

Hermione stopped reading. Who belonged to that voice? It sounded so familiar, yet she hadn't heard it in ages ...

"Mike! How wonderful it is too hear you again," the voice said. Hermione's eyes widened when she realised who the voice belonged to. TAMMY!

Stuffing the book back onto the shelf, Hermione quickly but silently crept toward the voice. Was Tammy doing the dirty on Draco? A small part of her wished that she was. It had popped out of nowhere and wished that Tammy was cheating on Draco so that he couldn't get involved with her. But why?

"May I be your Mike then?" She heard Draco's voice. Hermione felt deflated for the second time that day. The adrenaline rush that she had experienced when she thought that Tammy may have been cheating had disappeared. How could she have thought that it would have been ideal for one of her best friends to be cheating on her enemy? It would have been good in that sense, but when Hermione realised that she wanted Tammy to get in trouble, she thought that she was being ridiculous.

Hermione saw the two of them again. Tammy was giggling and leant over to kiss Draco. She didn't want to see this. Hermione turned and started running blindly. She had to get out. She didn't want to torture herself. She needed to go home and drown in ice-cream.

CRASH!

It seemed that Hermione took the phrase 'running blindly' literally and had not seen a giant display of romance books sitting right in her path. Books flew everywhere (mostly onto her head) and one even went out of the window, shattering the glass. Hermione could feel her cheeks burning from her fallen position on her floor. BOOM! Another book landed on her head and then proceeded to fall off - onto her hand.

This was perfect; absolutely perfect. Hermione was supposed to be elegantly looking through the romance books, perhaps giving the man next to her the occasional dignified coy look; not sitting in a pile of books which she had just knocked over after destroying a shop window. She wanted something - anything - to swallow her up whole on the spot. That, or she could Obliviate everybody's memories.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked as a hand appeared in front of Hermione. She took it without even looking at who the arm belonged to, but she recognised the staff uniform on them.

"I think so," Hermione said, rubbing her head as the store clerk pulled her up.

There was a jingling from the front of the store - Draco and Tammy had just left the store; Tammy carrying a Flourish and Blotts brown paper bag. Hermione looked at them with an unreadable look on her face and turned back to the clerk.

"I'm so sorry for knocking over your display." she said, dusting off her sundress. Hermione turned to the broken window. "And breaking your window."

"Don't worry; it's alright." Hermione finally looked up to see the clerk's face ... and nearly fell over again.

He had the most piercing blue eyes imaginable, yet they were somehow gentle. He had silky blonde hair that was in an organised mess, and he was taller than Hermione. In short, he looked like ...

Draco.

"Malfoy?" Hermione whispered, realising that the bumps on her head that she sustained must have finally clouded her brain.

"Pardon?" the clerk asked, leaning in a little bit. No way was this Draco - Draco would have never been so polite to ... anybody.

"Oh, nothing." Hermione said breathlessly. "I'm sorry for knocking over your display." she repeated, fixing her eyes on his Flourish and Blotts badge. She found it hard to meet his eyes.

"It's alright," the clerk replied. Hermione read the name on his badge. Tom. Tom was his name. (A/N: No, not Riddle but the OTHER Tom and no, not the Leaky Cauldron Tom, but the OTHER Tom)

"TOM!" a voice roared from behind a door marked 'Staff Only'. "What was that?"

A stocky fat man appeared from door and walked over to Tom and Hermione, his face turning slightly purple and reminding Hermione of Harry's uncle Vernon.

"Oh, it was nothing sir," Tom said, moving towards the pile.

"THE DISPLAY!" the stocky fat man yelled, spit flying everywhere. "YOU KNOCKED OVER THE DISPLAY!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione.

"I-I-" Hermione stuttered. She was too scared to talk. Even though she was the President of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic and found herself dealing with the doings of evil wizards practically every day at work (in the form of filing, but it was still the same thing), yet she couldn't bring herself to stand up for herself to a purple, stocky fat man.

"I did it, sir," Tom said. Hermione's jaw dropped. This person - who she had just met - was defending HER? She was speechless with shock. She couldn't believe it!

The purple, stocky fat man rounded on Tom. "Tom? You did this?"

"Yes, sir." Tom replied, sending a quick sidelong glance to Hermione. "I was helping this young lady here and I accidentally crashed into the display."

The purple, stocky fat man swelled with anger.

"Tom! That was totally irresponsible of you!" the purple man yelled. "But since you've never done anything out of line before and this is your first hiccup ... I'm giving you one more chance."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Tom said. The purple fat man turned to Hermione.

"I'm sorry for accusing you like that," he apologized. "As compensation, you may have a book from this section for free."

"I -" Hermione started, but the fat man was talking once more.

"Clean this up, Tom." he said before trodding off back to through the door marked 'Staff Only'.

"Thank you," Hermione said to Tom, who had started waving his wand.

"Your welcome," he said, as the books rearranged themselves. "I couldn't bear to see the boss scream at another customer. He's got no respect for anybody but himself. And I could afford it anyway. Being squeaky clean was never my thing." He gave her a grin and Hermione felt fuzzy inside.

"I guess I should be going, now." she said, heading for the door.

"What about your free book?" Tom asked after repairing the window. He had a won't-you-stay look in his eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione said, happy at finding a reason to stay. "I guess I'll just take this one."

She stumbled back to the romance section, the fuzzy feeling growing, and picked up the 'Prince Charming: Finding Your Perfect Wizard Love' book and going to the cash register.

Tom picked up the book, scanned his eyes over the title and scoffed a little bit. Hermione felt herself going red. Tom may have looked like stupid Draco, but he had a gentler look to him. More nice and proper. She liked him.

"What's wrong?" she asked after he scoffed.

"Nothing; just why would you need this book? It doesn't look like you need it." Tom said, diverting his eyes to processing the book through.

'Oh my God. He's flirting with me!' Hermione realised inwardly.

'Duh!' the two voices in her head remarked in unison.

"Y-Y-You'd be surprised," Hermione replied. She focused her attention onto another display of books. With any luck she wouldn't knock over that one.

There was a silence between them while Tom put the book into a Flourish and Blotts brown paper bag and handed it to Hermione.

"Thanks, er," Tom said.

"Hermione," she supplied.

"Thanks, Hermione," Tom finished. Another silence.

"Well ... I guess I'll see you later. I mean, see you around. I mean ... goodbye." Hermione stuttered. She gave Tom a quick smile before exiting the store to Apparate back home.

As soon as she arrived in her apartment she knew that she had made a mistake. She had been practically begging for a guy to come along and she had found one. One that had not only been walking along but had helped her up and taken the blame for her clumsiness even though he barely knew her. It were as if life were handing her a boyfriend on a silver platter and she had looked right through him.

She knew what she had to do. She had to go back to Flourish and Blotts.

10 minutes later through the magical portal at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione was back in the store. Tom was working at the counter with another person and so Hermione carried the book awkwardly with her. The person left and then Hermione went to the counter. Tom smiled when he saw her.

"Hello, Hermione," he said. He saw the book in her hand. "Quite a fast reader, aren't you?"

"Oh, I," Hermione blushed. "Actually, I've decided to return it."

"Really? Why?" Tom asked. "Surely not because I've touched it?"

'Surely not,' Hermione thought.

"No, I, er ... thought that I didn't need it anymore." she said, blinking a bit more than usual and looking down onto the wooden counter. Tom smiled and took the book from her hands.

"Well I guess I'll just delete this off of the sold list ..." Hermione watched as deleted the book and headed over to the romance section. She followed him.

"I just wanted to say ..." Hermione said as Tom finished putting the book back on the self. "Thank you again for taking the blame."

"No problem. Happy to help." Tom grinned.

"Yes well, tell me, is there any way that I can repay you?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I nearly got you fired and ..."

"It was nothing, seriously!" Tom said. "But how about dinner? Not in the way that you can repay me ... I was just wondering - and you don't have to agree or anything - if you'd like to have dinner or something with me. But I understand if you don't want to."

'He asked me out.' The thought dawned on Hermione.

"I ... sure!" she said. "Where and when?"

"Great!" Tom smiled. Hermione liked his smile. "Well how about The Leaky Cauldron tonight at eight o'clock?"

"That'll be fine," Hermione said. "I guess I'll see you then."

"OK," Tom said. A customer entered the store. "I have to go now and help -"

"Yeah, I know." Hermione interrupted. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah. Bye." Tom said.

Hermione exited Flourish and Blotts like she was riding Harry's school-time Firebolt (this time without the mortal fear of heights). She had done it! She got a boyfriend!

And practically dancing, Hermione Apparated home. She had a date!

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A/N: Ok, Ok, don't kill me now but I've left you with a slight cliffhanger. And honestly - I couldn't be bothered to type anymore today. The chapter is already 17 pages long, people!

From the first A/N - OK, well here goes the (actually true) account of what happened:

My sister's computer's (the one which I always use for updating) hardrive went crazy and then completely died, which resulted in me losing ALL MY FILES (yes, even those yummy pictures and videos of gorgeous DAN ... sob!). So my sister got a temporary hardrive and it took her a week to actually call my internet company and get our username, password and number to dial. And then when I actually connected, I was on for all of five minutes when the computer connection went psycho, and I got disconnected. And then my sister told me that the computer got a virus that prevented us from going on the internet, and now she's too lazy to get a patch to fix the damn thing (even though she has an internship at a friggin internet computer)

So yeah, that's why fate was out to get me. Anyway, at least the chapter is up and everybody can be happy and review and review (and then I'll be even happier)!

Hrm, maybe this chapter wasn't as eventful as I had planned it to be, but c'mon people ... HERMIONE GOT A DATE! Isn't that eventful enough on its own ...?

Now, to the special people. The people who make everything happen (except for me, of course) - THE REVIEWERS! So for the very wonderful (and extremely appreciated) reviewrs, THANK YOU! You guys are the ones for which I write for. And now since you are wonderful and special and appreciated and all those other spectacular things (I'm running out of adjectives), you may claim your Bridget Jones style red diary for your (extremely belated) New Years Resolutions:

kirt, Black Aliss, NitenGale (DAN IS MINE ... MINE! Lol), Meg, blonde-brain, HGDM lova, x1nfernal, claudia, DCMMFAN, Jexi, Miss Mills, sweet-77-thang, stargazer starluver, SmilinStar, Bharanthnatyam, The-Flame-Faerie, IceCrystal, xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo, dizzydragon, Ashley, Nubia, alien726 and Christi-Lynn.

Thank you once again guys!!

OK, for this chapter, I think you all shall receive ... hrm ... I know! If you review, I will bribe you with a whole block of mud truffle chocolate! It is the only thing one will eat when one's creative genius is off with the fairies and the only thing one will use to tempt one's fairy-dancing creative genius back. So review and get your whole block of mud truffle chocolate.

One last thing before I go, be sure to check out my best friend's Deltora Quest fanfic and be sure to review! (Reviewing is the way to a fanfic writer's soul) Her story is called A Pirran's Story and her username is Little-Kity. I (and my friend) would greatly appreciate it if you read it and reviewed. Thanks!

OK, well that's all I had to say I think except for: school's starting - bleugh!! Which means I will try and update as soon as I can (if my sister's comp doesn't go crazy again ... which it probably will do) in between studying, homework and other stuff (I'm trying to get good grades this year ... in the summer holidays at the beginning of 2005 and the end of 2004 my dad made my sister tutor me in maths - it's definately not fun to be called stupid every five seconds whilst thinking that this will be a good way for me to learn something).

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

--Look at moiye, ploise!--


	9. Dinner and Dessert

**The Bodyguard**

(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other entertainment programs, films, etc do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and hard-working Ministry official. He was the partying, rich and gorgeous playboy. But when Hermione Granger is unwittingly hired a bodyguard in the form of Draco Malfoy, the people who believe that opposites attract even say that they themselves are wrong ...

Right?

**A/N:** MY HUGEST APOLOGIES FOR THE EXTREME DELAY BETWEEN CHAPTERS! Read the Author's Note at the end for more insight.

**Chapter 9 – Dinner and Dessert**

Too conservative.

Too red.

Too yellow.

Too bleugh.

Too slutty.

Hermione Granger paced around her bedroom. This was crazy! She was picking out an outfit for the date she had that very night with Tom, the nice-guy-clerk-from-Flourish-and-Blotts-who-was-absolutely-wonderful. It was already 7.30pm and Hermione was racing around like a headless Hippogriff. She held up random articles of clothing and wondered if she should wear the obviously-outrageously-priced necklace. Eventually she collapsed onto her bed which was strewn with practically her entire wardrobe.

"Argh!" she said, covering her face with her hands. "Why don't I have an outfit for a date?"

'Because you've never had a date before,' the mean voice popped up. 'And whenever you went shopping you probably figured that you'd never have one ever.'

'Don't be daft; she's had plenty of dates!' the nice voice defended. 'What about the Yule Ball, and those Hogsmeade outings?'

'They're not counted! That was during school with adult supervision. Do tell me if there has been any other date after that.' the mean voice retaliated.

Silence from the nice voice.

'Ha!' the mean voice said triumphantly.

'Sorry, darling,' the nice voice said.

"Could you PLEASE shut up?" Hermione pleaded. The two voices fell silent (after the mean one let out a 'pff' noise) and Hermione stood up to servery what was on her bed.

Jeans? Too casual.

Gold dress? Too formal.

Sundress? Too summery.

Minidress? Too many screams of 'frostbite'.

Flowy pink skirt? Too ...

Hmm.

Hermione picked up the pink creation and held it against her waist. That was nice - casual, yet formal at the same time. She pulled it on and scavenged around through her tops. There were mostly work outfits in there – blouses, sensible polyester work skirts, beige, ironed pants and flat leather points. Hardly anything in there classified as wearable outside the office.

Finally, after much deliberation, Hermione pulled on her pair of ridiculously high heeled black heels and a blue wrap around top. She clipped up her hair and then entered her bathroom.

The clock on the sink said that it was already 7:50pm. She was going to be late! Hermione grabbed her 'Pure Paradise: for the gorgeous woman inside to indulge in' lipstick from Tammy and ran out of her room. She found Draco once again on the couch and watching a cartoon show featuring people with yellow skin. Odd.

"Where are you going?" he asked, fixing his eyes onto her after tearing them away from a woman with ludicrously large blue hair.

"Out," Hermione replied vacuously. This was her first proper date and there was no way that she would let Draco in on it.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Out," she repeated. Hermione searched through her handbag for something non-existent in a bid to prove that she wasn't going to be idle while Draco played 20 Questions with her.

"Well that's awfully descriptive," Draco drawled, his head turning back to watch a yellow skin-toned baby sucking on a pacifier. "If I burn down the house, then I guess that I could always go to 'out' myself and tell you."

"Oh, don't worry, I'll trust that you will burn the house down," Hermione said, pretending to be relieved that she had found her 'Pure Paradise' lipstick. "What with you and your brain capacity,"

"Well my brain capacity is fine where it is," Draco said, still watching the television. "And it's still bigger than yours."

"I'm having a vague recollection of an argument that we had similar to this one," Hermione said flatly. She looked at the clock that was above the TV. "Argh, I'm going to be late …" she said more to herself than anybody else.

"Glad to see you go," Draco said. Hermione snorted.

"And I thought that Malfoys didn't have emotions." She remarked.

"And I thought that you were a mudblood," Draco shot back, "oh wait, you still are one."

Hermione's temper flared and for a slip second she had a longing to shove the 'Pure Paradise' lipstick up Draco's nicely shaped nose. It seemed cruel that someone so evil was so good looking.

'Oh, God, I did not just think that,' Hermione panicked inwardly.

'You just did!' the two voices chorused in an annoying sing-song tone.

Hermione started to beat herself up internally. Draco had just called her a mudblood right to her face when he was watching _her_ TV on _her_ couch in _her_ house and yet Hermione hadn't even gotten her verbal revenge so far and was thinking that he was good looking!

"You may say that, _Malfoy_, but you live in _my_ house and _I'm_ _your boss_." She said.

"Not after hours," Draco replied. The yellow skin-toned cartoon show was ending and the yellow fonted credits were rolling on a black background. "After hours, I'm just a guest in your house."

"Trust me, Malfoy; you are definitely _not_ a guest." Hermione said. "You're a parasite that clung onto me and refused to let go."

"And yet you still haven't worn me out," Draco turned to give Hermione a deceivingly charming smile. It was a betrayal of personality.

"Yes, well it's amazing what things _can_ get worn out. My couch –" Hermione pointed to the creamy coloured furniture Draco was currently reclining on, "- the remote; welcomes …"

"Oh I'm sure that you'll survive," Draco gave her another smile. "After all, you did survive hanging around Pothead the entire time at Hogwarts, and you're still surviving now when you're 'working' with him,"

"You won't survive if you keep on talking," Hermione snapped. She really didn't have time for this.

"Ooh, tough response. I can hardly think of anything to retaliate with," Draco said. He picked up the remote and flicked to another channel and started watching some ads.

"Yeah well have fun sitting in _my_ house trying to think of retaliation._ I'm_ going out." Hermione scowled at Draco then looked at the clock. "And now I'm late – thanks a lot, you jerk."

"Happy to be of service," Draco grinned as another program came on the television.

Hermione growled to herself in anger of the fact that she had let Draco distract her for long enough that she was late for her date. She hated him; she really did hate him.

'Sure,' the evil voice said, 'of course you hate him. He's just gorgeous and smart and witty and sharp. I can see how it would be so hard to like him.'

'He is not any of those things.' The good voice defended. 'He's a stuck-up, pureblood nancy who lives off his diabolical father's dirty money in order to bed as many women as the world contains.'

'Would one of those women be Hermione?' the evil voice asked.

'Now, really, that was hardly appropriate! You've been keeping yourself in Malfoy's head for too long,' the good voice objected, horrified at such an up-front attitude.

'So you're not denying that he does?' the evil voice pressed onwards.

'I definitely know that Hermione dear isn't going to; but as for the works of Draco Malfoy, I'm not sure. But I know you are, from all the probing and poking that you've made so far.' The good voice said.

'Oh, enough, you two; I think we've already established the fact that Malfoy is a giant git with nothing to do with his spare time than be a crappy bodyguard, and that I'm the victim in all of this,' Hermione thought.

'Yes, but you're not necessarily the _innocent_ victim, are you?' the evil voice said slyly. 'After all, you do pack a mean verbal punch.'

'I am the innocent victim,' Hermione persisted. 'No quiet – both of you – I'm going to Apparate.'

And with a crack, Hermione disappeared from her house in London to the Leaky Cauldron.

The Leaky Cauldron held its usual smoky background with the wide range of odd magical creatures in darkly lit corners, eating their unusual array of food. Tom the bartender was behind the counter, polishing some glasses and smiling at random customers as he served them Firewhisky.

Hermione looked at the clock above Tom's head and saw that she was ten minutes late.

'Oh, crap,' she thought as she scanned the room for any signs of her date.

'Don't worry; he's not going to be here yet. Ten minutes is hardly something you should be fretting over,' the nice voice reassured.

'Are you kidding?' the other voice scoffed. 'I'll be surprised if he hasn't found another woman yet.'

'Shut up, shut up,' Hermione repeated in her head to make the voices stop. Did this mean that she was crazy?

She saw a wave of a hand and looked at it. It was Tom (her date, not the bartender), and he had obviously managed to nab some good seats. Hermione smiled, relieved, and took a seat next to him.

"Hi, sorry I'm late," she said as she sat down.

"Oh no, it's fine." Tom smiled. "I just got off work, so I was hoping I wouldn't be late, either."

"How was work?" Hermione asked. Suddenly, she felt like she was married to him and she was asking the typical housewife question.

"Great, I sold a brilliant copy of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to Arithmacy_ today, but I don't think you'd want to talk about my selling books …"

"Are you kidding? I love that book! Isn't it amazing how Phyllis manages to incorporate all the difficult languages and terms of Arithmacy into such an entertaining way?" Now this was getting less nagging-marriage like.

"I know! It's fantastic, how he uses so many expressions to his advantage, and twists them into little humorous passages …"

Hermione smiled and nodded before invoking more conversation. Her thoughts of Draco were pushed out of her mind and all she could think about was the decent and thought provoking conversation about Arithmacy she couldn't find with any other guy.

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Draco scoffed to himself. Nobody goes 'out' and doesn't say where, unless it involved somebody of the opposite sex.

Granger had a date.

_Granger_.

It was almost too unbelievable to comprehend.

Draco started at the wall above the television. What was more unbelievable – the fact that she got a date in the first place, or that he didn't have one before she did? Draco didn't know.

There was a smudge on the wall.

Stuff Granger and her stupid date. Who cared who Granger was scoring free dinner off?

He certainly didn't.

It wasn't as if he even liked her, or even _began_ to like her. She was Granger, of all people. There wasn't anything remotely special to her. She didn't have a gorgeous body, she didn't have huge eyelashes, she didn't have an interesting personality … there was nothing attractive to her. All she had were books and her best friends.

Draco stared at the smudge absent-mindedly.

Why would he like Granger? She was boring, straight laced, stuck up and always acting so know-it-all. She was his complete opposite.

Draco's stomach grumbled and he went off in search of food.

That's right; there were no feelings of affection of any kind towards her.

Draco pulled out a cereal box from the pantry. He wondered who she was out with …

But it wasn't as if he cared or anything … He just wanted to know what poor idiot actually asked her out.

Was he poor, rich, dumb, smart, boring, funny, ugly, good-looking? For some reason he thought ofher when he listed off the last possible characteristic.

'What am I doing? I don't like Granger!' he thought to himself as he watched his hand stop reaching into the cereal box. 'She's probably the most annoying, uppity little … _thing_ that I've ever come across.'

He shook his head and started eating more cereal.

But no matter what he did, ate or thought for the rest of the day, Draco couldn't help but feel that his thoughts were more trying to convince him instead of justify him. And for the tiniest amount of time in the world, Draco sulked over the fact that Hermione found someone …

And it wasn't him.

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When Hermione got home that night, she was floating. She had obviously forgotten how good it felt to go on a date.

Hermione sighed as she slid the key into the lock her front door. Tom was probably one of the smartest, funniest, nicest, most wonderful people she had ever known. And the fact that he looked really, really, really, really good helped along too.

She let go of the key.

Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Nah.

Hermione opened the door and stepped inside her apartment before flicking on the light. It was unusually dark before. There didn't seem to be any moonlight streaming in through the window. It was almost eerie.

She nearly screamed.

Everything was TIDY.

'DEAR GOD!' she yelled internally. Had Draco been kidnapped by house elves before they cleaned the house?

Hermione took time to survey the scene.

There weren't any dirty dishes on the table, which was usually covered by ants at this time of night when Draco left them out.

The TV was turned off, and the remote control was placed on the coffee table.

Random _The Daily Prophet_ pages were no longer sighted scattered around the house.

The cushions were nicely fluffed and arranged neatly on the couch, looking as new as the day Hermione spied them at a local muggle furniture store.

Hermione stopped.

If the cushions were nicely fluffed on the_ empty_ couch … the where was Draco?

Hermione pulled out her wand. Suddenly the idea of kidnapper house elves didn't seem so ridiculous.

There was a strange silence as Hermione walked through her house. She could hear her own heart beating rapidly as she slowly shuffled to the kitchen.

"_Lumos maximus_," she said, ready to fire any other spells.

The kitchen lit up and Hermione looked around.

Everything was tidy as well. Gone were the coffee cups left on the table. Gone were the splatters of water through untidy washing. The tea towels were hung up properly and the fridge was humming. All the other appliances were neatly lined up; nothing was tilted or broken. The little paintings on the walls were also weren't tilted.

OK, so there was nothing in the kitchen. So where was Draco?

Hermione scoffed internally at her theory that Draco was hiding in the kitchen. She guessed she naturally assumed that he would be stuck in the kitchen if he wasn't sleeping.

She headed for the bedroom. Maybe he was taking a shower.

'Really would want to walk in on him then, eh?' the second voice piped up. She could almost see it winking suggestively.

'Shut up,' she said, rolling her eyes.

Pointing her wand forwards, she walked towards her room.

The same eeriness before hit her again and she let her imagination run free. She saw shadows that she hadn't before, when she wasn't scared of her own surroundings. She imagined all the wild circumstances that could engulf her as she walked closer to the room.

She cleared her throat slightly in a bid to stop the thoughts. The bedroom lit up from the light coming out of her wand.

In her bed; sleeping, was Draco.

'Asshole,' she thought, along with a wider array of swear words.

How dare he scare her like that in her own house! Honestly, she could literally hear the tense, foreboding music as she approached her room. She could have sworn that she would have heart failure if there was a slight noise; all this because stupid, bloody Draco wanted to sleep in her bed for once.

Eurgh. That sounded odd.

Wait a minute … it _was_ odd.

What the hell was Draco doing sleeping in her bed?

She saw a note on the bed and grabbed it.

_Granger – _

_Hope you screwed up whatever you did when you were at 'out'._

_Taken the bed._ (Hermione snorted when she read this … Draco always had a talent for pointing out the obvious)

_The bodyguard needs to spring up comfortably to protect its cargo._

_Try the couch. You'll find it unsurprisingly uncomfortable._

Hermione scowled at the note and set it back on the table. She folded her arms and glared at Draco as she watched him sleep.

He was such a jerk.

And the note about her couch – she found it ironical that he complained about it, even though he spent half the day on it, watching muggle television.

She knew that he liked television, and she knew that he would have rather kissed Harry than to admit it. But Hermione, being the nice, kind person she was, never actually used that to her advantage. But she knew that she could always use it when she was losing an argument.

Making a face, she went back to the living room and looked at the couch. It wasn't often that she got kicked out of her own bedroom by her worst enemy.

Sighing, she took off her black heels and moved some of the cushions out of the way. Hermione couldn't believe that she had nearly stunned a potential kidnapper when she was wearing ridiculously high black heels.

She crashed onto the couch, hoping her skirt wouldn't crumple. She couldn't remember how much, but she had paid a lot of money for it. Hermione blinked.

Did sleeping on the couch make you superficial?

She turned off the lamp like light coming from her wand and then closed her eyes.

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The next day, Hermione woke up to the noise of tapping. Opening her eyes, she blearily looked out of the window behind her. A snowy owl was tapping the glass. Hedwig!

Hedwig.

Harry.

What day was it today?

Hermione shot straight up from the couch so quickly that for a moment her vision started looking like one of those television channels with no reception – little white and grey dots taking up the spaces of the usual coloured dots. (A/N: Do you know what I mean? Like you get up too suddenly after sleeping and your vision goes weird …)

She shook her head and the dots eventually merged back to their normal colour.

What day was it today?

Hermione looked at the calendar above the mantle place. Today was …

Thursday.

What time was it?

It was 11am.

'_Oh crap_!' Hermione lifted her wand put a charm on her hair to stop it frizzing.

She was supposed to have a brunch date with Harry today at 10.30am so that she could give him his late Christmas present. They had organized to meet up at the Leaky Cauldron and then move on from there.

And she had slept in!

Hermione Granger, the queen of the organized and orderly, was late for something she planned days in advance. This never happened to her. Was she going crazy?

Did going on dates mean that she had to sacrifice her organized state of mind for Tom? If that was true, did that in turn mean that she had to pick between love and work? Hermione already knew the answer to that – she had previously faced that decision, and last time she had picked work. Did that mean that she had to pick work again, or did this time did she have to pick love?

'Who said it was love?' Hermione thought in a desperate attempt to rationalize her argument. 'It's more … like than love.' Oh, honestly, even she thought that that sounded rather stupid.

Realising that she had left Hedwig to keep tapping at the glass, Hermione quickly opened the window after snapping out her thoughts. The owl flew in and landed on the couch before sticking out her leg.

"Hey, Hedwig," she said, stroking the bird's smooth coat. Hedwig hooted and shook her outstretched leg a little.

Hermione took the letter and opened.

_Hermione --_

_Since you missed brunch, how about lunch?_

_-- Harry_

Despite her anguish over the fact that she had kept Harry waiting for so long, Hermione smiled. He always managed to make things feel better, and that her mistakes didn't really matter. She turned to Hedwig.

"Does he want an immediate answer?" she asked her. Hedwig hooted once – Hermione knew the code: one hoot meant no, two hoots meant yes. "OK then. Hold on, I think I have some owl treats somewhere …"

Hermione started digging around the kitchen for the treats. But as Hedwig _was_ Harry's bird, and Harry was, let's face it, kind of rich, Hedwig had already flown off. Harry had taught her not to accept treats; that she didn't need any more food if he provided all that she needed and wanted.

When she came out of the kitchen, Hermione discovered that Hedwig had already flown out the open window and that Draco was looking at her with an incredulous look.

"Are you really _that_ hungry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just a little peckish," Hermione rolled her eyes at her lame attempt at a joke and then went to her room to grab her present for Harry.

Her room was bright; sunlight was bucketing itself in from the open window. Her bed was messy and unmade; the sheets crinkled as if Draco had done some serious kicking in an effort to piss her off.

Success.

As soon as she had stepped into her room, she noticed that it seemed hotter than usual. Draco had just taken a shower, and had let the steam waft into her room. The bathroom was even more filled with steam. The peach tiled floor was covered in water. A towel was draped over the bathtub as if it were just thrown there.

But knowing Draco, it probably had just been thrown there.

Grunting to herself (she promised that she'd make Draco clean up when she was gone), Hermione opened the bottom drawer if her nightstand and then pulled out a small box (red) that was wrapped in ribbon with a bow on top (gold). She put it in her handbag.

Should she change?

'There's no time, you don't want to keep Harry waiting any longer,' the first voice said.

'Who cares? He's been waiting for half an hour, he can wait another five minutes,' the second voice said.

"Red and gold?" Draco asked from the doorframe of the bedroom. "Seriously, did you ever stop being a part of the Pothead club?"

"First of all, the name is _Gryffindor_, _not_ the Pothead club. Second of all, I'd rather be in Gryffindor than end up homicidal and inane like a Slytherin." Hermione retaliated.

A streak passed through Draco's eyes, like a storm was about to erupt.

"And you're saying that Gryffindor is perfect, are you? That nobody ends up homicidal and inane from Gryffindor?" Draco asked, rounding on her.

"I-"

"Oh dear, I've managed to find a dumb spot in Hermione Granger, the girl who never forgets her best friends. The girl who's best friend ended up being _homicidal_ and is _still_ inane!"

"Harry didn't have a choice -"

"Of course he did. He just took the wrong one."

"The wrong one? Harry did it to _save the world_, you jerkass!

"In your opinion,"

Hermione never felt so angry in her entire life. All at once she felt like punching, slapping, jabbing … doing _anything_ to Draco that would make him experience all the pain that Harry had gone through during and after the death of Voldemort. She wanted him to realize that Harry had no other choice than to kill him, and that he didn't come off normal either. Harry had been plagued by nightmares ever since, not to mention all other forms of terrors.

**SLAP!**

"What is wrong with you?" she yelled at him. "Don't you have a soul?"

"I used to," he said. He had hardly moved when she slapped him.

What had gotten into him? Draco never usually went crazy when they argued over their Hogwarts houses; but this time things just seemed more … odd.

"Clean this up," Hermione said wearily. "I'm going out."

With that, she Apparated with a _crack,_ and left Draco staring at the empty bedroom.

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"Hey, sorry I'm late," Hermione said when she saw Harry waiting expectantly at the bar.

"No it's alright," Harry smiled. "Lunch time now?"

"Yeah, let's go,"

As they stepped through the magical porthole, Hermione couldn't help thinking about what Draco had said. She knew that Harry had done the right thing and she knew that Draco would say anything that would go against Harry, but she was more strung on the fact that Draco seemed to have realized that he was missing a part of himself.

But after what?

Endless amounts of school time teasing and dirty remarks hardly accounted for having a whole chunk omitted from yourself. Was there something else that she didn't know …?

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. He poked Hermione in the side and she jumped. Harry had always done this during Hogwarts and Hermione always found it thoroughly annoying. He only did it to annoy her, and it worked quite well.

"Nice to see good habits stand," she quipped. Harry gave her a goofy grin.

"Are you alright?" he asked again.

"Oh, I'm fine …" Hermione gave him a vague smile. "I'm just –"

"- Thinking." Harry finished for her. "You're always thinking; don't you want to give your brain some relaxation time sometimes?"

"I'd rather think than be inane." She told him, and immediately her thoughts went back to the argument.

"Come on, Hermione! You know I have less brain power than you. Let's just talk about mindless sports and eat today," Harry begged.

"Isn't that what you do everyday?" Hermione asked him, playfully raising a suspicious eyebrow at him.

"Yes, well it's more special today," Harry gave her a toothy smile.

"Is it because I'm here?" Hermione asked as they continued walking.

"Well, actually, I was thinking more of the fact that I get to eat out … But I guess having you here is kind of like a bonus," Harry said. She hit his shoulder and he laughed. "How about we try this place?"

He pointed towards the _Sparks Will Fly_ restaurant and Hermione paled.

"Oh, Harry, I don't know …"

"It's been a while, don't worry! They would have forgotten about us already."

"Is that a fact or are you just hoping?"

"A little more of the latter," Harry replied. "Come on, Hermione; let's just go again this time."

"Fine, fine …" she grumbled as Harry pulled her in.

Hermione was once again enveloped by the warm and welcoming haze of the restaurant. Everybody was enjoying their nice, early lunches and there was a nice atmosphere to the place. When they entered the woman at the register saw them and immediately ducked underneath the table. Hermione took this as a warning sign and gave Harry a 'Are you _still_ sure?' look. He nodded and they went to a table on the veranda outside that was sheltered underneath a giant shade cloth.

They ordered their meals (Harry – steak, Hermione – chicken, both with salad. Harry had told her that ever since he moved to his own apartment with only Hedwig as company, he had been put off of chicken, or any other bird that could be eaten) and sat around talking until they had been delivered.

"Where did you go last night?" Harry asked her.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked.

"Well your top's all crumpled and your skirt's on backwards." Harry muttered to her.

"_What_?" she asked. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I enjoyed the view," he smirked.

"Harry!" Hermione protested. "That was so … Malfoy like of you!" Harry's smirk disappeared and he looked shocked and angry.

"That was a low blow, Hermione," he said.

"Well I'm sorry Harry, but you started it," she replied.

"I always admired the maturity you held." Harry commented.

"Why, thank you." Hermione smiled.

There was a whooshing noise, and their lunch flew over to their table.

"Did somebody order a steak and salad and a chicken and salad?" The napkin that came with the plates asked.

"I've got the steak," Harry said. The plate hovered just over the table in front of Harry before the charm finished, and then just plopped down. The other plate did the same in front of Hermione.

"Enjoy your meal," the napkin said before floating lifelessly down onto the table.

"This is marvellous chicken," Hermione teased, deliberately taking a large bite out of a chunk of meat. Harry replied with hooting noises.

"It's 'marvellous', is it?" Harry asked after a few more hoots. "This isn't an English tea party, Hermione,"

She snorted.

"I always loved the warthog look on you," he smiled.

They finished the rest of their lunch in silence.

"OK, let's see …" Harry picked up the menu again after finishing the last of his salad. Hermione was still eating.

"You're ordering more?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes well from lunch onwards, dessert is necessary." He raised his arm and a waiter came to their table.

"Yes, sir?" the waiter pulled out his wand.

"For dessert, I would like a bowl of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce," Harry said. Hermione snorted. Harry had always liked the boring ice cream.

The waiter, noticing Hermione's momentary lapse of politeness, turned to her.

"And the _lady_?" he asked pointedly.

"The lady will have a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream." Harry ordered for Hermione, who didn't think she would survive after lunch from all the food being stuffed in her.

"Very well, sir," the waiter bowed and then flicked his wand. Different sparkles arose from it and then headed for the back, which Hermione presumed was the kitchen. "Your dessert will arrive shortly."

"I don't know how you can manage more food." Hermione remarked when the waiter had left.

"There's always room for dessert." Harry winked.

"And mine too, it seems." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know I prefer chocolate sauce over whipped cream."

"Well it's just lucky that I ordered chocolate sauce on my ice cream then, isn't it?" Hermione grunted. "Now finish your salad."

"Yes, father," Hermione said obediently as she stuffed a tomato in her mouth.

Their dessert arrived the same way their lunch did and just as Harry was about to spoon some ice cream into his mouth, Hermione told him to stop.

"Is there a bug in it?" he asked, looking at it.

"Like that would stop you," Hermione laughed. "No, it's because I have something for you." She pulled out the box from her handbag.

"What's this?" Harry asked, abandoning his ice cream.

"Merry Belated Christmas." She said.

Harry pulled off the (gold) ribbon and opened the (red) lid. Inside was a cushiony fabric, which held a silver watch. He pulled it out of the box.

"Your old watch never started working after the fourth year." Hermione explained as he pulled it on. "And you're always wondering what the time is, so now you can just look at your wrist."

"Thanks, Hermione." Harry said genuinely. It looked perfect on his wrist.

"You're quite welcome." She smiled. Harry leant over and gave her a huge hug.

"_YOU_!" a shrill voice yelled from _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ as they were hugging.

'Me?' Hermione thought. She jerked her eyes open. Right there, carrying a bag stamped _You shopped at: Quality Quidditch Supplies_ and stomping towards the veranda she and Harry were sitting on, was **Olivia**.

"I _knew_ you were just _crawling_ to get to Harry!" Harry opened his eyes too. They stopped hugging and sat back down.

"Olivia, this isn't what you think –" Harry tried.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Olivia snapped. She turned to Hermione. "Look, honey, just because you can't get a man of your own does _not_ mean that you can take my one!"

"Excuse me, but I'm not _taking_ Harry away from you! I just gave him a present and –"

"Strawberries? Chocolate sauce? _Whipped cream_?" By now Olivia had dropped the bags onto the ground. The entire restaurant seemed to have stopped eating and was watching their private little dramatic performance.

"We were just having lunch and we decided to order dessert!" Harry explained.

"Yeah, well how can I be sure that you're not calling this … this ... _tramp,_ dessert?" Olivia shrieked.

'She may as well have called me a scarlet woman.' Hermione thought.

"Because I am Harry's best friend and I would never even contemplate the _thought_ of doing something with Harry." Hermione explained.

"Why should I believe you?" Olivia asked. She didn't allow time for Hermione to reply, however, and instead verbally attacked Harry.

"I've given you love, I've given you companionship, I've given you happiness. I even went to give you some Quidditch supplies, for goodness' sake! I never like sport shops, you know that! And what do you do? You go out and have an affair with a … _floozy_!" By this time Olivia had turned red.

'Floozy!' both the voices and Hermione's thoughts were clouded together.

'It's not as if we're in 1920s Chicago here.' Hermione thought.

"You know what, Harry?" Olivia seemed to be building up to a gigantic climax of the argument now. "It's _over_! You can have your stupid Quidditch supplies."

Harry stared wide-eyed at the retreating back of Olivia.

"Olivia, wait!" Harry got up from the table. He pulled out pouch and slammed some gold onto the table. "Wait, Olivia, come back!" And he sped off, in a vain attempt to repair his now non-existent relationship with Olivia.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated breath, throwing the napkin softly onto the table. Great; this was perfect. She had destroyed the relationship between snake woman and Harry. But for some reason, she didn't feel very bad. After all, Olivia wasn't the best type of girl to go after. She was snobby, stuck-up and a gold digger.

She picked up the gold that Harry left behind and combined it with her own to pay for the food.

Hermione walked out of the restaurant (which was now going back to normal after that violent Olivia outburst) and headed for the Leaky Cauldron. Maybe she would go drown herself in ice cream when she got home …

"Hermione!" a voice called out from behind. Oh God. She hoped it wasn't another Olivia attack. She turned around.

"Hermione!" Ready for another argument, Hermione was about to open her mouth to defend herself when she saw Tom walking to her.

"Hey!" she said gladly. She needed somebody to cheer her up after that.

"What are you doing here?" Tom asked her.

"Oh, I just had lunch with a friend." Hermione explained.

"Did you go home yesterday?" Tom asked.

"Why?"

"Well it's just that you're wearing the same clothes as yesterday …"

'CRAP!'

"Oh, I got kicked off my bed to the couch by my stupid bodyguard." Tom raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow in genuine subtle shock.

"You have a bodyguard?" he asked.

"Well my job's a tiny bit dangerous … actually, not really, but my boss hired a bodyguard for me anyway."

"Then I guess your boss is a very smart man." Tom said.

"Why is that?" Hermione asked.

"Well we wouldn't want anything happening to you, know would we?" Tom smiled and Hermione had to look away from his face. She was sure she had found a new shade of deep red – her face was that colour.

"No, I guess not," she said.

"Look, my break is nearly over … but you do think that maybe one day we could go on another date, or something?" Tom asked.

"I'd love to!" Hermione smiled. Tom smiled back.

"I'll come back to Flourish and Blotts later and we can work it out then." Hermione offered.

"OK, then. Well … I've got to get back to work. See you around." Tom gave her a little wave before heading back to Flourish and Blotts.

Hermione smiled after him until he was back in the store before she went off to the Leaky Cauldron.

One relationship would have been destroyed today, but it looked like another was beginning to build.

.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.

':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:'

**A/N:** I am **_so_** sorry for not updating in ages! I went back to a new year of school this year and everything is so much more packed with work and assignments and social problems and stuff. Even now, in the holidays, I've got 3 assignments to do in _2 weeks_. So I am _terribly, terribly, terribly_ sorry for not updating so much!

Review please and tell me your thoughts on the chapter (and even my lateness if your that passionate about it). Remember your reviews are the things that keep me going (plus gratuitous amounts of chocolate, Daniel Radcliffe and Benjamin McKenzie)

Now to the absolutely spiffing, corking, marvellous and amazing reviewers for the last chapter: thank you so very much for your wonderful comments and reviews – as a result for your wonderful acts of kindness, I shall compensate with what I promised you … _A whole block of mud truffle chocolate_!

So if you are one of the following people, please come and claim your prize: **blonde-brain**, **Fiona McKinnon**, **xInfernal**, **Black Aliss**, **GatorGirl**, **alien726**,** BrownEyedQT715**, **SmilinStar**, **dizzydragon**, **Meg**, **The-Flame-Faerie**, **Sunflower18**, **Elizia**, **macbeaner**, **El Ci Aech Johnson**, **finally-defeated**, **mea**, **Caboodle**, **xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo**, **wandless**, **Kadoatie24**, **sweet-77-thang**, **BlACkCRoSs**, **Destiny**, **Badbunny**, **mya**, **Becka**, **The Dragon Sorceress**, **insanemaniac**,** ViolistObsessionist**, **Dragonsgirl**, **Tears-That-Fall**, **BIGHARRYFAN**, **kerry** (who gets two!), **NitenGale**, **Blue-Pia**, **Hippie1212**, **Christi-Lynn** and **seduction **(who gets two!),

For this chapter, if you review, I shall give you … ooh I know! Parisian hot chocolate – which is literally melted chocolate. Yum …

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will enjoy the next one (when it is put up).

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

**-- Look at moiye, ploise! --**

P.S. Hurrah, Fonge, the chapter is finished!


	10. Back to Work

**The Bodyguard**

(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other entertainment programs, films, etc do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and hard-working Ministry official. He was the partying, rich and gorgeous playboy. But when Hermione Granger is unwittingly hired a bodyguard in the form of Draco Malfoy, the people who believe that opposites attract even say that they themselves are wrong ...

Right?

**THE BODYGUARD**

**Chapter 10 - Back to Work**

It was raining again.

Hermione stared out of the window at the cold background below as the rain poured down in a somewhat sad but contemplative manner. Water was sliding down the window pane steadily, leaving behind little droplets. She couldn't see the sky properly; it was just a mass of grey storm clouds pouring out water. Little ant-like people ran around desperately searching for shelter. The window was fogging up.

"Matching up the weather with your personality, perhaps?" Draco's voice startled her.

"Malfoy!" Hermione jumped. The last time Draco startled her, she'd nearly severed her finger. She inwardly cleared her voice and then adopted an angry tone. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Keep your knickers off, Granger; I'm going to the bathroom." Draco sneered, throwing her a sarcastic look. "Unless, of course, you'd like to join me," She scowled at him and he continued on his way.

'It doesn't give me any consolation that he's been thinking about my knickers.' Hermione furrowed her brow. 'Oh, gross! Draco Malfoy thinking about my underwear ... I need to get out more.'

And get out more she would – today was the first day back to work after the holidays, and after Olivia's now infamous public outburst.

Hermione padded into the kitchen, and pulled out a packet of microwave porridge mix and a bottle of milk. Whilst she may have been absolutely horrid at conjuring food or cooking it the Muggle way, the microwave was still as useful as ever. She had dubbed it her culinary best friend; as it seemed like the least likely thing to blow up, aside from the fridge.

After Hermione had emptied the packet into a bowl and added the sufficient amount of milk to it, she stood around her kitchen waiting for the microwave to finish cooking her breakfast. She smirked to herself at the comparisons she had just made. Whilst the microwave was her culinary best friend and least likely to blow up, Harry was her human best friend and most likely to blow up after the other one.

"Why, Granger, I never knew that you cared." Draco appeared in the kitchen. Hermione blinked. Draco had got to stop appearing so suddenly around her. If he kept this up, she'd probably end up killing herself from being startled so much

"What?" Hermione asked in her usual dealing-with-Draco tone.

"Well you made me breakfast." Draco gave Hermione an incredibly deceiving smile that had no genuine happiness or warm emotions in it. His eyes remained the same as outside - stormy, grey and gloomy.

"Excuse me, you prat, that is MY --" Hermione objected as she was interrupted with the ding from the microwave.

"Move it or lose it, Granger." Draco said as he stepped in front of Hermione, only a few inches away from her face. Hermione was almost scared to look into his stormy eyes for fear that they were red or some other unnatural eye colour.

"Don't you DARE boss me around in my own household, Malfoy!" Hermione snapped, pushing Draco back towards the kitchen bench.

"What? Right here, right now, on the kitchen bench?" Draco answered an unasked question. Nothing moved or changed but his eyes which scanned up and down Hermione's face, surprisingly, instead of the rest of her form. "Kinky, aren't you?" Hermione let out a frustrated groan. "You know, I could make that moan come out when you're in a more ... compromising position."

"Get off my bench, Malfoy." Hermione said, turning towards the microwave. Ignoring him would be best, perhaps.

"Floor more comfortable, perhaps? Or maybe somewhere more ... exotic?" Draco raised an eyebrow in the manner of a challenge and yet another attempted seduction. Hermione spun around. Ignoring is not best.

"No, actually, I'm going to have to sterilise my bench now that you've been on that." Hermione replied. "Now get off my bench – today's the first day back to work and I haven't got any time for this."

"If you haven't noticed; I'm going back to work too." Draco retaliated. "And aren't we getting a bit sardonic here?"

"There isn't a 'we' in this or any other situation, Malfoy!" Hermione spat. "Never has been and never will be."

"Vicious AND sardonic; you're quite the deal, aren't you Granger?" Draco drawled. He loved getting Hermione mad; he found it entertaining when the smartest witch in his grade got riled up over something small which he had said.

"Is this what you enjoy, Malfoy? Sneaking up on me and arguing with me and shooting off spiteful comments to me and stealing my food and disrupting work and insinuating sexual things and kis-" Hermione stopped herself short. She was losing where the sentence was going.

Draco held a dominant smirk on his face.

"Disrupting work, insinuating sexual things and what, exactly?" Draco crossed his arms expectantly.

"Nothing." Hermione dodged. The smirk grew.

"Hmm, you see, when you say 'nothing', I don't believe you. Can you tell me why?"

"I have work today, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood to bicker so much with you – I'd rather keep my IQ points."

"So does that mean it makes you dumber every time you fight – and lose – with me?"

"It _means_ that I've been silly enough to reduce myself to you." Hermione was gritting her teeth. She glanced at the clock. "And now I'm late! That's great you …"

"Jerkass?" Draco supplied, reminding them of their last argument.

"Yes!"

"Wow you really are losing IQ points … you need my help to insult myself."

Hermione ignored him and went to her bedroom to change into her work clothes.

"We're leaving!" she yelled as she came out of the room.

"'We're'? Wow … and here I was thinking that you were telling the truth when you said that there wasn't such thing as a 'we'."

Hermione let out a frustrated growl. "What a stupid, bloody dic—"

_POP!_

Hermione Apparated to the office.

_POP!_

Draco had followed.

"You know, you really are great at being such a child." Hermione said as she bustled to Tammy.

"Hey, Hermione!" Tammy said perkily. She swayed her upper body to the side and grinned flirtatiously. "Hi, Draco,"

Draco winked mysteriously in reply. Tammy giggled almost insanely. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Yes, well we'll be going now." She said rather forcedly, gripping at Draco's arm.

"But I was thinking that we could have a chat …?" Tammy asked Hermione, even though it was obvious that she meant Draco.

"Well, actually –" Draco went to pull up a seat.

"- We have work to do." Hermione finished for him, smiling pleasantly.

"Aw, come on, Hermies." Tammy pouted at her. Some men would have found this attractive. Hermione thought, albeit absent-mindedly, that she looked like a bulldog. "Surely, you can just spare a few minutes?"

"Yeah, _Hermies_, just a few minutes," Draco smirked at her. "I highly doubt that the pot plant is going to develop homicidal tendencies anytime soon."

Tammy giggled and slapped Draco playfully on the arm. "You're so naughty sometimes," she chuckled. When Tammy turned to take a sip of her coffee, Draco shot Hermione a 'she-thinks-I'm-naughty' look. Hermione shot back a 'I-think-you're-insane' look.

"So what do you say, Hermies?" Tammy pleaded. "It's the first day back to work – nobody takes it seriously."

"Top of the morning to you, Miss Granger," Gary Tanner's familiar and friendly face popped up from the wall of the cubicle behind Tammy. "Lucky you've just come … I've got some files for you to sign and check over. It looks like the holiday period has more crime than Potter's hours of moping."

"What?" Hermione asked, taking the files. Draco scowled. There he was again; Potter, poking into everything, even when he wasn't even there.

"Haven't you seen him?" Gary asked Hermione, now leaning on the top of the grey, woolly wall. (A/N: Well you know how in some offices the cubicle walls have those little bally wool things on them … -- proves yet again that the author of this story is equipped with a big group of words.-- Erm … yeah)

"No, I only _just_ got here," Hermione said, in avertedly moving her head to Draco.

"Oh, right," Gary said, looking quickly at Draco, but then turning straight after to Hermione. Draco had given him a scowl too. "Well, you should see the state that he's in. Hasn't shaved, red eyes, more than usual ruffled hair …"

"Oh, dear," Hermione said, feeling like something had lodged into her throat. What was that; and that hot feeling rising up her spine? Oh right; she knew what that was.

Guilt.

"Last time I checked up on him he looked like he was ready to drown himself in his coffee." Gary said grimly. Draco scoffed slightly; and it quickly turned into a hacking cough when Hermione gave him a dangerous look.

"Hmm … I guess I'll check up on him then. Thanks, Gary." Hermione smiled weakly. Gary nodded and then ducked back to his cubicle.

That hot feeling up her spine was getting tingly now, and she knew that Harry's present state was because of her. Even though it wasn't really her fault – it was more Olivia's – she couldn't help but feel more than a little responsible for the rather messy break-up in Diagon Alley. After all, if she hadn't hugged Harry then Olivia wouldn't have gotten so paranoid and broke it off.

Then again, Olivia seemed to be the type of person who would be paranoid if she saw Harry talking to another female – whether it be Hermione, or … Olivia's grandmother.

Hermione wrinkled her nose slightly.

'Eurgh; that was an odd analogy,'

"You know, _Hermies_," Draco sneered, "I found it rather interesting that you're willing to visit Potter when he looks a little scruffy, but you don't dare talk to your other friend whom you haven't seen for about two weeks."

"Sorry, _Drakie_, but Harry's just had a bit of a tough time lately, and I can always catch up with Tammy during the lunch break."

"But you could always catch up with Potter during the lunch break too, _Hermies_." Draco smiled, showcasing all of his straight, white teeth. "You know, this sounds like favouritism, almost."

"Almost," Hermione smiled back. "But it's not."

"You can spare Harry a few minutes but not me? Come on, Hermies, it's just like a mini girly time." Tammy intercepted. It seemed like Draco was doing more arguing than her – and she was the one who wanted to talk in the first place.

"Yes, well I would have agreed with you, but since _Malfoy_ decided to sleep in _my_ bed, I'm sure that he should be given the opportunity to live up to his own phrase of 'springing up comfortably'; just in case the pot plant _does_ develop homicidal tendencies."

Tammy frowned slightly. Draco sleeping with Hermione … In her bed? Did this mean that they had … Tammy looked at Draco. He didn't seem to be meeting her eyes – instead he was too busy looking at Hermione. She didn't really seem to notice that it was a look of malice – just that he was looking at Hermione, and not at her, and not bothering to deny any of what Hermione had just said.

So this was what it felt like to be rejected.

"I'm going to see Harry." Hermione said. She found it increasingly (and oddly) scary to be looking into Draco's eyes. It was just like the storm outside.

Hermione went off in search of Harry's cubicle. She heard footsteps behind her.

"See you've come to tag along," she said somewhat grimly as she poked her head around the office.

"I am the bodyguard after all," Draco said from behind her.

"More like a crime to humanity," Hermione said faintly as she continued looking for Harry. She entered the more sparsely populated area of the office – Harry, even though he had shared friendship, wealth and kindness abundantly – preferred a quieter space to work in; especially when there were troubles in the love life.

Practically all the cubicles in sight were empty. Only the tops of people's heads could be seen – they looked like different ice cream flavours in their own individual tubs. Right there was Alinka Billhorn, the blue haired Auror who looked like she was blueberry ice cream. Normally Hermione wouldn't know _all_ the people who ever entered her department, but she remembered Alinka because of her hair.

Looking more over, she saw a sandy blonde head. That was a vanilla flavour. Turning around she saw a silky brown head. That was chocolate.

Now to find dark chocolate – Harry, naturally.

"Why thank you. I find that the phrase 'Crime to humanity' was always quite a charming one." Draco said as he winked to the back of Hermione's head. She could tell – the wink was even in his voice. "It's always been fun to be the bad boy."

And with that, he pinched Hermione's behind.

"_HEY_!" she yelled as she jumped up in the air, grabbing her behind.

_GRAP!_

Hermione's sensible working heels slid along the carpet as she landed, and she fell behind-first onto the dark blue floor.

"_ARGH_!" Hermione yelled as her behind collided painfully onto the carpet.

"Smooth," Draco remarked, not showing any signs of helping her up.

Hermione groaned. Who knew that falling onto such a fleshy area could cause so much pain?

"Can't you at least help me up?" she muttered, extending her arm behind her.

"Sorry, my job description doesn't cover lifting heavy objects." Draco smirked, defiantly crossing his arms.

Hermione let out an angered cry and tried (unsuccessfully) to try and get back up.

"I can hardly call it a job." Hermione quipped as she momentarily abandoned getting back up, and instead slipped her shoe back on. "Just help me up." Once again, she extended the arm.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, then."

Ignoring the arm, he crouched down and winded his arms around Hermione's stomach and yanked her up.

It would have been almost romantic if he had done it more gently, but unfortunately, Draco Malfoy did not do romantic.

But his arms didn't leave Hermione's stomach.

"Thank you," Hermione cleared her throat, dimly aware of the fact that the hot feeling up her spine wasn't guilt anymore.

"My pleasure," Draco said. He breathed in, and all he could smell was pears. Her hair smelled like pears.

He liked pears.

"Well …" Hermione said, in a futile attempt to cover up the awkward silence.

"Well …" Draco smirked. Leaving his left arm around her stomach, Draco lifted his right to pull back a little bit of hair from Hermione's left shoulder. He rested his chin on her now bare shoulder.

"I …" Hermione blinked wildly at the ceiling, not remembering why on earth she had chosen to walk into such a deserted part of the office. All she was aware of now were the magically lit fluorescent lights and Draco's left arm that was snaked around her stomach.

"You …" Draco continued for her. His right arm was now moving back to Hermione's stomach and stopped on top of his other arm. He didn't know if he did or even why, but he seemed to be mildly enjoying this. Not the bit when he watched Hermione become all embarrassed (he always enjoyed those), but the part where he could tell how Hermione was reacting, just because he had his arms around her stomach.

"I …" Hermione tried yet again. Her wide vocabulary and smart way of thinking had momentarily left her. She couldn't think of anything intelligent to say … In fact, she couldn't think of anything to say, full stop.

"Yes?" Draco asked and he smirked slightly. He kissed the top of her shoulder.

"We …" Hermione cleared her throat. What was she trying to say? She couldn't think of anything right now, except for the fact that her left shoulder felt fantastic.

"Hermione, is that you?" a distant voice called out. It was Harry.

Immediately, Hermione snapped out of vegetable-like state. It was as if she had been hypnotised and somebody had given her a nice, hard shake. Hearing Harry's voice let the extensive list of words, smart phrasing and normal Hermione thoughts enter her head. She became aware that she was at work; that the fluorescent light was flickering slightly. That Draco still had his arms around her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione snapped crossly, disentangling herself from Draco.

"What did you think?" Draco asked, playfully crossing his arms. He had obviously enjoyed teasing Hermione.

"I …" Hermione looked at him. He had a cheeky look on his face. But this kind of cheeky wasn't a boyish, playful and innocent type. It was a naughty, suggestive kind of cheeky. "Don't even touch me again!"

"You didn't look like you were disagreeing." Draco remarked, winking at her.

"Just keep your filthy hands off of me." Hermione said, heading towards where she had heard Harry's voice. "You obviously have abandonment issues to grip on like that."

"Well that's hardly appropriate, considering that you didn't look like you wanted to abandon me." Draco said, following. He noticed that her left shoulder was still bare.

"Harry!" Hermione called. She had decided not to answer that remark with anything.

"Hermione?" Harry called. They started to sound like they were playing an office version of Marco Polo.

"You stay there." Hermione said, pointing to an office cubicle.

"And what will you do if I don't?" Draco asked, sitting himself down in a wheelie chair, leaning back with his hands to support his head. "Punish me?"

"No, stun you." Hermione said, setting off on her own.

She found Harry sitting in a cubicle next to the window.

He had dumped his share of paperwork on his desk; and there were pens and pencils scattered all over the table. Books titled _Awesome Aurors: Your Guide to the Greatest_, _UP: How to Balance Your Career with Quidditch_ and _Hexes Here, There, Everywhere: A List of Useful Auror Spells_ were thrown randomly on the desk. There were empty wrappers of Drooble's Best Blowing Bubblegum scattered around and old receipts from Flourish and Blotts and Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Hermione looked up and noticed that there were several framed magical photos on a ledge above the original desk that was attached to the cubicle wall. There were pictures of Harry and herself at his 21st birthday party, of himself, Hermione and Tammy on a night out on the town. Then there was a picture of Harry, Hermione and _Ron_.

They were on the train after sixth year – Hermione, being the only girl, was in the middle. Harry was on her right and Ron was on her left. She had both her arms resting on their shoulders and Harry had put his left arm on one of hers. Ron had put his right arm around Hermione's waist.

She watched as the picture moved. Ron's hand squeezed her side and she jumped up, sending everybody's limbs flying. Harry was laughing and Ron was chuckling behind his hand. Hermione collapsed onto the seat behind them and they all turned to smile at the camera, waving insanely. Ron was making a funny face.

Hermione was transfixed.

She hadn't seen Ron in such a long time that she had almost forgotten what he looked like. But as she stared at the freckly face before her, twisting itself to poke out its tongue and go cross eyed beneath the mop of flaming red hair, she wondered how she could have even begun to begin forgetting him.

She wished he was back.

'Don't dwell on dreams and forget to live.' The first voice reminded her of what Harry had said to her once.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the picture and perceived that the last photo frame had its face on the ledge. It was obvious that it contained a picture of Olivia.

Olivia.

That reminded why she was here in the first place.

"Harry," she said, looking up.

Harry was sitting in his wheelie chair, facing the window. He had a cup of what looked like coffee in his hands, but didn't seem to be drinking it. It was raining outside still, and Hermione vaguely noted that he looked like her this morning – looking out at the small ant-like people running from the rain; fogging up the glass … watching the fat little water droplets swim down the window pane.

"It's over." Harry said miserably. He took a swig of the coffee. "It's over, Hermione."

"I know." Hermione said. She crouched down next to his legs. "But you'll move on."

Gary had been right. Harry's eyes were bloodshot, his hair was more ruffled than usual and he hadn't shaved. He looked like he hadn't slept or eaten in days; and Hermione was pretty sure that coffee wasn't the only thing in that cup judging by what his breath was telling her.

"But I can't move on!" Harry moped. "I really liked her, Hermione."

"Harry –"

"Just wait." Harry continued "I thought we had a connection. She was such a beautiful person. She was kind, smart, funny, charming …"

"Harry …"

"And now she's gone." Harry stared into the liquid in his cup. There was a ripple in it from the tear that had just fallen off of his face.

"She's not gone, Harry," Hermione tried to reason.

"Of course she's gone!" Harry said. "She's not going to call anymore, she magicked away all of her stuff that she had given me from my apartment. She's gone."

"For goodness' sake, Harry, you make it sound like she's dead and has taken all remnants with her." Hermione said gently.

"She may as well be." Another ripple.

"Listen to me, Harry." Hermione took the coffee cup and set it next to her leg. She gripped his sides with her hands and shook him until he looked at her. "Olivia was never good enough for you anyway. You're smart, funny, talented, courageous … Olivia may have seemed like all of that, but she wasn't. By the looks of things, she was probably just superficial." Harry scowled at her. This wasn't working well.

"Is this supposed to cheer me up?" Harry asked.

"Well, just hear me out. Your qualities are all genuine and go right down to the bone. Olivia's were just a cover over who she really was. Look at her properly, Harry. All she did was talk about you buying jewellery and other expensive things for her." Hermione took a stab at it. Harry didn't protest to what she had said, so it looked like Hermione had gotten it right. "She said that she never went into sport stores … if she was really worth it, she would have spent the entire day there because you liked them. And for crying out loud, Harry, she broke up with you because _I was hugging you_!"

Hermione wondered when on earth Harry would be able to realise these things for himself instead of having her to show him.

"Well from her point of view it would have looked like that we were having an affair or something …" Harry weakly defended.

"_Her_ point of view doesn't sound very solid, does it?" Hermione pointed out. Harry sniffled.

"I guess not," he agreed finally.

"And look at you! _You're_ gorgeous!" Hermione said, giving his side a reassuring little squeeze. "Hot, even. You could go out there and get a better catch than Olivia in 10 minutes!"

"You think?" Harry emitted some broken chuckles.

"I know," Hermione said wisely.

"And we both know how often you're wrong." Harry smiled.

"Never, even if I say so myself,"

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"I feel like a butler." Draco said as he watched Hermione look through some papers in her office.

"Serves you right to be on the other end of the servant-master line." Hermione said, turning a page over. Draco hmphed.

Hermione read through the page and signed it at the bottom.

"Malfoy, I want some tea!" she called, inwardly laughing.

"Good for you." Draco said, crossing his arms in an attempt to look tough; like a bouncer at one of the many, many, _many_ nightclubs he had been to.

"_Tea_, Malfoy." Hermione ordered once again.

"I'm a bodyguard, Granger. Not a servant."

"Well you certainly felt like one ten seconds ago." Hermione quipped.

"That was different." Draco's arms tensed. With any luck his muscles looked bigger than before.

"Do explain." Hermione prodded him on, putting away some filing and taking out some more.

"Well, just because you feel like something doesn't necessarily mean that you _are_ that."

"Like how you feel like you're so high and mighty when you're really not?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Hardly, Granger,"

"So explain to me how that's not right."

"Fine, I'll go get your stupid tea." Draco opened to door.

"One third milk, please!" Hermione called, giggling to herself. Oh this moment was priceless – Draco Malfoy, stuck-up egoist getting tea for her like her butler. The power felt extraordinary.

There was a knock on the door.

It was Tammy.

"Hey, Tim Tam," Hermione smiled. "Anything interesting happen worth sharing?" Quite frankly, Hermione was just talking to cover up the shock that Draco wasn't busy flirting shamelessly with her.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could do that."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, flicking through the paper on her desk.

"Well, how about you start with the conquests of Draco Malfoy."

Hermione looked up from the paperwork to meet the serious eyes of Tamara Harding. "What?"

"You heard me." Tammy said, folding her arms.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I understand." Hermione said, setting down her luxury eagle feather quill.

"OK, well your story can begin with Draco Malfoy _in your bed_."

'Oh, God,' Hermione thought.

'Sucked in,' the evil voice said.

"Tammy, the thing is that –"

"How could you, Hermione?" Tammy asked. "You know that I like Draco yet _you still go and sleep with him_!"

"No –"

"You hate him so much, and I liked him so much, but no! _Everything always has to work out for Hermione Granger!_" Tammy hands became fisted. "Just because you don't have a boyfriend doesn't mean that you can steal mine to perfect your twisted little world."

"Tam—"

"I'm not having _any of it_, Hermione!" by now Tammy was shrieking, and Hermione was getting an unpleasant de ja vu of the situation. "I know your love life isn't exactly perfect, _Hermies_, but that doesn't mean that _you can go ruining everybody elses_!"

"TAMMY!" Hermione yelled. She was honestly sick of people accusing her of ruining relationships.

"DECIDED TO ADD SALT TO THE WOUND, MAYBE?" Tammy shouted.

"TAMMY!" Hermione got out of her seat. "_LISTEN TO ME_! I have not slept with Malfoy, I will not sleep with Malfoy and I _never, ever, ever_ will sleep with Malfoy!"

"Sure, Hermione, sure," Tammy remained sceptical, though there was a part of her that knew Hermione was telling the truth.

"Look, I went out on a date and when I came home Malfoy was sleeping in my bed because I always make him sleep on my couch. So instead, I got the couch and he got the bed."

"You got a date?" Tammy asked, blatantly ignoring the fact that Hermione had just justified that she had never slept with Draco.

"Yes, actually, now do you believe me?" Hermione found this slightly amusing.

It looked like a giant load had been taken off of Tammy. She bounded over to the desk , silky brown hair flying after her (Hermione had often envied that hair) and enveloped Hermione in a giant hug.

"Oh, Hermies, it's fantastic that you found someone!" Tammy yelped happily.

"So I don't really suck the life out of everybody else's relationships then?" Hermione raised her eyebrow at Tammy, who promptly turned red.

"Right; sorry about that. I didn't mean it, really. Everybody gets really heated when they argue with each other."

"Are you trying to apologise?"

"Yeah …"

"Apology accepted."

"Hey, that's great … What's his name?" Obviously Tammy was always up for a good gossip.

"Tom," Hermione smiled.

"Tom?" Tammy looked horrified from a moment. "What; like the Leaky Cauldron bartender …?"

"Oh, no. Of course not!" Hermione looked equally horrified.

"Then Tom who?" Tammy was on the verge of wringing her hands.

"I don't know why you're more excited than I am," Hermione said.

"Can't a girl be excited for one of her best friends?" Tammy asked.

"I guess …" Hermione smiled. "He works at Flourish and Blotts, and he's …"

"Flourish and Blotts? Please tell me this man has a social life, Hermies!" Tammy pleaded.

"Don't worry, he has a social life. He's funny, smart, talented and he's _so_ good looking …"

'Is that because he looks just like Draco?' the evil voice asked.

'Shut up,' the good voice replied.

"So if he has a social life … that means that he won't mind going out with you again."

"Yep, in fact we're planning on another date soon."

"Fab!" Tammy smiled. "Then you and Tom and double date with me and Draco."

Hermione gulped. "What?"

"Come on, Hermies! It'll be a great way for him to meet your friends."

"Malfoy is not my friend."

"Well, people who are around you."

"And what about Harry?"

"Well he's got Medusa …"

"You mean Olivia?"

"Yeah, her,"

"Not anymore. He broke up with her."

"But Harry loves Olivia!"

"Actually, her breaking up with him is more appropriate."

"Aww, poor Harry! That must be why he's so down today."

"She broke up with him over me."

"You?"

"Me,"

"Why?"

"I hugged him."

"So she _broke up with him_?"

"Yeah,"

"That's crazy!"

"That's what I told Harry when I found him spiking his own coffee."

"But it was 9.00am in the morning!"

"Exactly,"

"Poor bloke,"

"Tea," Draco said flatly, re-entering the office with a cup. He spied Tammy. "Oh, hello,"

"We'll talk later."

"I'll see you later then," Tammy smiled at Hermione. Then she turned to Draco. "And I'd better be seeing you later." She pecked him on the cheek and left the room.

That hot feeling up her spine had returned. It wasn't guilt; it wasn't from being lost in the moment …

It was jealousy.

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A/N: And I am afraid my dear readers I will leave it off here. Think of this chapter as an apology because of my lateness. Apologies if this chapter wasn't interesting enough, but this story is going somewhere – I swear! I promise that the next chapter I write is certainly going to be interesting … Even if I do say so myself 

**Review**, **review**, **review**! That is about all I can say. Your reviews and thoughts keep me writing, and I'd love to hear what you guys think. Every time you click that little button and typing in a few words keeps me going for another hour! 

Now to business section of this …

Thank you fantabulously (I don't care if that's not a word) to everybody who reviewed Chapter 9! Because of what you did, you all deserve what I promised you all – Parisian hot chocolate.

So come and collect your melted hot chocolate (mmm…) if you are: **Nubia **(just wait and see what Tom has to do with the story), **Sunflower18**, **blonde-brain**, **HGDM lova**, **Tacroy**, **HgBookworm**, **BIGHARRYFAN**, **Badbunny **(I hope the socks of which I am rocking are funky ones D), **finally-defeated**, **mea**, **MarauderGrlEvr**, **kate21**, **NitenGale** (fine; plain ice cream is cool. Happy?), **SmilinStar**, **butterscotchwarrior**, **kay345**, **xXxThe coldness of lovExXx**, **Fiona McKinnon**, **LilacBlu**, **chadick** and **alien726**.

Thanks again!

Now, let's see … if you review for this chapter, I think you shall each receive …

Anyway, the holidays are coming to an end and I'll be piled up with work soon, so I'm sorry if there's another huge delay between chapters (Advice: Never take Visual Arts in high school; the workload is terrifying).

Rightio, I've blabbed enough now, so adieu!

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

**Look at moiye, ploise!** --


	11. A House on the Sand

**The Bodyguard**

(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other entertainment programs, films, etc do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and hard-working Ministry official. He was the partying, rich and gorgeous playboy. But when Hermione Granger is unwittingly hired a bodyguard in the form of Draco Malfoy, the people who believe that opposites attract even say that they themselves are wrong ...

Right?

**NOTE:** This chapter contains swearing (just a little word) and some violence, plus some dodgy writing.

THE BODYGUARD

Chapter 11 – A House on the Sand

Hermione was depressed.

And when Hermione Granger was depressed, she usually buried herself in work of any form.

As a child growing up, Hermione was always pressured to grow up, achieve good grades and become the dentist daughter of dentist parents. Then she would marry an eligible dentist bachelor and then have another daughter who would become a dentist.

Naturally.

And so it was with this strict condition that Hermione gradually grew to resent her parents and their tight restriction. When she was younger she would entertain her parents, even daring to dress up in a dentist's coat once in a while and pretending that she was checking out the teeth of her dolls (despite the fact that her dolls didn't smile with their jelly-textured lips open).

But as she entered Hogwarts and entered into the daring realm of adventures that Harry and Ron had in store for her, she realised that she didn't have to be a dentist – she could be anything she wished.

This realisation was both a blessing and a burden – a blessing in the way that she had the freedom to become whoever she pleased, and a burden in a way that she had just figured that out when she entered Hogwarts, after all those intelligent years in a normal Muggle school.

And whilst Harry and Ron were her best friends in the entire world and she could talk about almost everything with them, she also realised after quite some time that they were actually quite thick-headed.

Sure, she could talk about almost all with them, but that didn't necessarily mean that they would reply … or understand.

So, in true girl-consolation style, Hermione turned to her one and only saviour:

Chocolate ice-cream.

In summer when she was about to melt from the heat, she often exploited the side of her which didn't mind Dobby doing his job down in the kitchens (she always mentally bashed herself up for her lack of morals afterwards), and asked for a bowl of chocolate ice-cream.

In winter when she was about to freeze over from the cold, she (once again) exploited the side of her which didn't mind Dobby doing his job down in the kitchens, and asked for a hot fudge sundae.

Yes, it seemed that ice cream was a pivotal part of Hermione Granger's life.

But now it seemed almost impossible to duck out of the office in order to get some.

Despite the fact that it had been raining previously in the week, it was now sizzling hot, which was quite unusual for London weather. Though it was a landmark known throughout the world, London had a penchant for raining.

A lot.

So it was quite odd when Hermione realized she needed ice cream. Not only to wallow in her own self-pity and the perpetual feeling of guilt, but to also cool down. The cooling charms cast on the office were doing their job pretty well, but Hermione was always used to the feeling of fifteen degrees and below - typical London weather (**A/N**: I wouldn't know … I'm just thinking it's that temperature all the time).

"Malfoy!" she snapped. Draco was standing behind her, trying to look down at her shirt again. He too was succumbing to the heat and was now playing mindless games to keep him from melting into a gooey puddle behind Hermione's desk.

"What?"

"Get me some ice cream." She ordered. The heat was making her irritable.

"Only if you say the magic word," Draco smirked.

"I know a variety of magic words, any of which I am not going to say." Hermione said, dropping some folders onto the spot directly in front of her on her desk. "Go and get me my ice cream."

"I am not your slave, Granger," Draco drawled. He was peering at his nails. "Go and get it yourself."

"And I am not patient." Hermione said, primly folding her arms after buttoning up her top. It may be hot but she wasn't going to expose herself to Draco under any circumstances.

"Now, come on, you surely can't be so cold that you're buttoning up your shirt but craving ice cream?" Draco asked, folding his arms too.

Before Hermione could object (and cause a major verbal war), Tammy bustled in, carrying a tray which was supporting two bowls of vanilla ice cream.

"Ice cream?" she asked as she placed the tray onto the filing Hermione had just put onto her desk.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione grinned and grabbed a plate.

"Geez, Hermione, are you trying to suffocate yourself or something?" Tammy undid the top button of her blouse.

"No, just trying to avoid a sexual harassment suit," Hermione smirked in return and dipped a silver spoon into the smooth, white substance. Tammy gave her a weird look, but ended up taking a plate of ice cream as well. She approached Draco with it.

"Want some?" she asked, dipping the spoon slowly into the ice cream.

"Well, if you insist," Draco had a rogue-ish look to him. He leaned down and Tammy shoved the spoon into his mouth. Hermione tried ignoring him by looking at her now wilting pot plant.

"Enjoying it?" Tammy asked Draco, returning the spoon to the ice cream.

"Yes; actually. I was feeling a bit hot before …" Draco gave Tammy a half-smile. "In fact, I'm feeling a little hot now."

"Really?" Tammy giggled. Hermione picked up her wand, and, resisting the urge to stun Tammy – directed a spell at the pot plant, which soon turned fabulously green and healthy.

"Really, really," Draco winked. Hermione cleared her throat and desperately tried to push away all images of Tammy and Draco snogging.

"Tammy," she blurted out, without actually thinking about what she would say after she called out her friend's name.

"Hrm?" Tammy giggled, feeding herself some ice cream.

"_Tammy_," Hermione persisted, realizing that Tammy wasn't actually paying any attention to her.

"What?" Tammy lowered the ice cream bowl and looked at Hermione.

"Don't you have work to do?" she asked in what she hoped was not a rude way.

"Oh, right, yes," Tammy blushed and went back to facing Draco. "I'll see you later."

"Thanks for the ice cream," he replied. Tammy turned a deep shade of scarlet and then walked back out.

"Having fun with her?" Hermione asked; finishing her ice cream and setting the bowl back down onto the tray.

"Yes, in fact, I am." Draco replied primly, licking off the remnants of ice cream Tammy had left around his mouth. Hermione tried not to look.

'Think of Tom. Tom is hot. Tom is good. Tom is smart. Tom is funny.' She tried distracting herself.

'Tom looks exactly like Draco.' The evil voice said.

"You talk about her as if she were your little chew toy," Hermione remarked, picking up her quill and moving the ice cream tray off of her filing.

"You're the one who brought it up," Draco said, resuming his position behind the desk. "In fact, you were the one who made her sound like a chew toy."

'He has a point there, you know,' the second voice in Hermione's head piped up.

'Shut up,' she replied.

"Fine, don't reply, then," Draco smirked smugly. Hermione was sure that even if she were blind she would have thought that that annoyingly smug, smirking face was there all the time. "Speaking of chew toys; where's Potter?"

Hermione cleared her throat once more. "_Harry_ is at home."

"And what did he do to get a day off of work? Shag the boss?" Draco smirked again.

"Harry wasn't feeling well; something I wish _you _would experience once in a while," Hermione replied, ignoring the now-melting ice cream.

"Well, I could feel slightly faint … though I must say, I would require you to cure me," Draco casually arched an eyebrow at nothing. It was one of his odd little habits.

"I'd rather you die in the gutter than me administer medicine to you," she snapped back.

"Touchy, touchy, touchy …" Draco shook his head slightly. He moved forward. "Want any help loosening up those muscles?" he placed his hands on the spots between her shoulders and her neck and squeezed.

"Despite the fact that you just said I was touchy, it does not give you permission to touch –" Hermione stopped. She had to admit that he had a way with massages.

'Where did he learn that?' she thought as he massaged a particularly tense muscle. 'Actually, I don't want to know the answer to that question.'

"Now, doesn't that feel better?" Not only did it feel better from the previously taught muscle, Hermione was also resisting the urge to merely flop backward from Draco's relaxing ministrations.

'Tom!' she thought desperately.

'Looks like Draco.' The second voice provided.

There was an odd hot feeling spreading from her spine all the way up to her face. She knew that she was blushing as red as the fountain pen she was holding; it didn't help her to know that fact at all. Her hair was getting bushier from all the friction caused by Draco's arm rubbing against it so much because of the massage. The ruby red fountain pen she was supposed to be holding was on a rickety ride.

Draco was laughing inwardly. Playing around with Hermione was simply much more fun than playing around with Tammy.

When Hermione assumed (quite rightly so) that Tammy was just his little chew toy, Draco subconsciously made it his own personal mission to make it known that _he_ was the one in charge. _He_ was the boss. And _he_ could do anything he wanted to her – whether it be screwing around with her head to just screwing around the signs he was giving her. The massage was a prime example.

Mentality: Draco hates Hermione.

Draco's Fun: Draco wants Hermione.

Normal Sign: He wants to look down her shirt to piss her off.

Mixed Sign: He wants her, he doesn't want her, he likes her shoulders, he likes her, he wants to mess with her head, he doesn't really want to mess with her head, he wants to look down her shirt, he doesn't want to, etc.

As he massaged further on, he knew that these mixed signs were strokes of genius. He had done them for ages with all those lurid girls bearing names resembling sweets (Draco chuckled silently to himself as he remembered a girl whose name was actually Sweets) and other sugar-filled edibles. Not that they were supposed to hold an intended purpose. No, Draco did it because he was bored.

After all, Draco was a rich, handsome, 20-something playboy who spent his entire amount of adult years so far bedding beautiful girls who he had made think themselves of special. And he was doing the same to Hermione.

Practically.

He wasn't going to sleep with her (he was repulsed at the idea …?) he just wanted to confuse her. Then he was going to make her think that was something else; special. Then set up a situation where somebody else that she knew (hopefully Potter) would screw everything up and make her think that she was ordinary. The bit after that was a little scruffy; maybe something interesting (perhaps even dangerous) could happen and, finally, he would step in and make himself out to be the hero – bodyguard, comforter, misunderstood soul, and lover.

And then there was the little fun part of shattering that dream and ruining Hermione Granger beyond mental repair.

He really did marvel at his own genius sometimes.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, I do wonder how you get so clenched up sometimes, Granger," he whispered into her hair. Draco saw the pen in her hand resume its steady position and knew that she was coming off of it.

"Go away." Hermione said as she tried shrugging off his hands. She succeeded in only receiving a harder squeeze on her shoulders.

"Oh, c'mon," Draco rolled his eyes and squeezed forcefully once more. "Surely, _surely_, you would want to relieve this … _tension_ between us?" There was almost a halo over his head from his innocent tone.

"There isn't any _tension_ between us at all, thank you," the fountain pen began running across the paper, artfully ejected red ink on the way.

"Well there was some in your shoulders."

"Wow – an almost friendly comment," the pen was laid down on the page, and it former holder turned to face Draco with an almost cynical look. "If I didn't know you, I would think that you actually had a soul."

"Whoops, then?" Draco offered.

"Hrm," Hermione raised an eyebrow with an unraised mouth and then resumed working.

Lunch time rolled around, and Hermione was relaxing in her comfy chair. Draco was back behind her again, attempting to look strong and intimidating.

In the time that had passed between the beginning of lunch and the 'ice cream saga', Tammy had visited a total six times; covering up her obvious attempts of conversation and flirting with Draco with thinly disguised dialogue such as 'I've run out of paperclips' and 'I can't remember where the bathroom is'.

Hermione had tiredly supplied Tammy with paperclips and directed her to the bathroom she had attended every working day of the year previously. All this interruption was not helping her finish her work.

On the eighth visit of the day, Tammy swaggered in and flirted with Draco (that man was simply running out of French to sprout) before hurriedly remembering to tell Hermione that Harry had just sent a message over.

Hermione had been kicking back and trying to absorb the calm silence of the office – aside from Draco's breathing, which she wished he would stop doing – when Tammy walked in.

If the woman's top had been any more unbuttoned (in contrast to Hermione's nun-like ensemble, which she had done up _all_ the buttons), Hermione was sure that it would resemble a semi-transparent bathrobe which didn't have any ties.

Hermione tried blocking out the coy little voices beside her as she thought of Tom. Tom and his nice attitude. Tom and his intelligence. Tom and his respectable job. Tom and his great sense of humour.

"Oh, Hermione!" Tammy stopped just short of the door, and headed back for Hermione's desk.

"What?" she asked in a daze, opening her eyes.

"Harry left a message for you," Tammy said. She leant in closer. Obviously, she could practically be naked in front of Draco and not care, but she didn't want to divulge information about Harry within his earshot.

"Oh, really?" Hermione was pleased. She had been waiting to hear from him all day. "Is he alright?"

"He seemed alright; not supremely drunk or drugged up, heaven forbid." Tammy said. "He just wants to see if you can visit him in your lunch break; which is technically now."

"Alright, then." Hermione got out of her chair and put on her blazer. Draco walked over to her.

"Do I _have _to visit Potty's hell hole?" Draco asked in a bored tone. Tammy blanched slightly.

"Well, no, actually," Hermione gave him a toothy smile. "Harry is one of my best friends, and I would rather you not be there."

"Tough luck, Granger," Draco argued. "I'm the bodyguard. _I _guard _your_ body. Which means that _I_ go wherever _your_ body goes."

"I don't care; you're not coming with me," Hermione said defiantly. She leant in closer so that only he could hear. "It seems to me that you haven't finished with your chew toy yet."

Draco scowled – nobody patronised Draco Malfoy and got away with it.

"Well, see you soon," Hermione nodded to both Tammy and Draco before Apparating to Harry's apartment.

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Hermione hadn't really visited Harry's apartment that much before. Sure, she had been a frequent visitor at Grimmauld Place, but Harry's current dwelling wasn't frequented that much.

After she had Apparated, Hermione took a look around from the spot at which she was standing. The living room was a mess; books, clothes, towels, everything was strewn everywhere. The corridors had sideways tipped paintings (the subjects were snoring in their awkward positions) and the dining table at the centre of the room was covered in food which even looked like they had been half-heartedly consumed.

The bathroom was revealed to be a wet tiled and soggily depressing place; towels being littered everywhere and toothpaste being randomly uncovered amongst the debris.

And the balcony, which Hermione had found herself at at least once when she was treated to a private lunch with Harry – one of the few times she had come over to his house. If she had not been there at that exact moment, she would have remembered the balcony as a cosy little place which was perfect for watching the world go by. Two exotic, Asian-looking plants were in opposite corners, and fairy lights (which would be magically lit up as soon as six o'clock came) decorated two of the four poles supporting the ceiling above the balcony.

All in all, it had looked like a quant little place in the apartment. A place where even when it was hailing, you wouldn't mind being at.

But now, Hermione found it difficult to just look at the place. The pebbled floor was covered in beer bottles – some broken – and suspicious looking liquid was currently flooding one corner. The magical fairy lights were no longer tied up in an orderly fashion; they were now only attached to one pole, hanging loose. The Asian plants were wilting.

Hermione painfully surveyed the scene. This would explain the state of Harry's apartment; combined with Olivia's break-up. It looked like an explosion had gone off in the vicinity of Harry's apartment and instead of a mushroom cloud of smoke; there had been a mushroom cloud of beer bottles, weird substances and dirty clothes.

"Who's there?" Hermione heard a faint raspy voice coming from the bedroom. It sounded threatening but depressed at the same time.

"It's me, Harry," Hermione called. She stepped away from the balcony and attempted to dodge some dirty towels.

"Olivia?" Immediately, Harry's voice sounded lit up. Hermione felt terrible with her response.

"No, sorry, Harry,"

"Oh." The voice had died back down. "Then who is it?"

"It's Hermione," She started heading for the bedroom.

"Hermione?" Harry repeated almost incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"You asked me to come here," Hermione answered. She found him lying on the dark oak king sized bed, atop of the deep red bedspread which had gold trimming.

"I did?" Harry asked, in a sure yet confused tone. "Oh, yeah, I did." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "At least, I think I did. These days, I don't remember anything I've done. Just the important stuff."

"You asked me to come here, Harry." Hermione replied in the same tone as Harry's, except hers was not confused. She had found it slightly crushing to realise that Harry did not prioritise her as 'important stuff'. She found a seat next to his head. "What's wrong?"

"What do you think is wrong?" Harry groaned, slowly getting up. "Olivia's left me, my life is worthless. I may have all this … _crap_, but it doesn't mean anything." He gestured to all his material possessions.

"Do you remember what I said, Harry?" Hermione asked, helping him get up. "You're a fantastic person! You don't need Olivia to complete your life – you complete your own life by yourself."

"'I complete my life by myself?'" Harry sounded slightly incredulous. "That means I'm doomed for a life of living single, aren't I?" Hermione gave an inward groan.

"Harry, I think that you're taking everything too seriously." She said, finding his limp hand and squeezing it.

"Too seriously?" Harry didn't squeeze back. "Oh, that's a bit rich coming from you, Miss I'm-In-Control-Of-Everything. You've never had one moment of your entire life where you have not been serious." Hermione could smell the alcohol in his breath, but she had been offended none the less.

"Excuse me?" Hermione was shocked at the fact that Harry was biting the hand that was (and by the looks of it, will always be) feeding him, even if he was a little drunk.

"You're excused," Harry grumbled. His hand left hers. "The fact is, Hermione, you can't teach somebody to do something you've never done yourself."

"Oh, really?" Hermione looked at him apprehensively – she hoped that he wouldn't know that, though.

"Really, really," For somebody who was drunk and giving a lecture on how dead being serious was, Harry really was surprising her.

"Well I think that you're forgetting the fact that books are quite readily available to teach you on a wide variety of subjects that you may have never had practical experience in, but you can teach." Even Hermione knew that she had sounded too serious.

"See? There you are, at it again – serious Hermione with her patronising tone." Harry's eyes drooped. The drunken side of him seemed to be returning.

"Harry –"

"Don't 'Harry' me, Hermione!" Harry snapped. "Have you realised that practically every single sentence you have spoken to me ever since you came to my house has had the word 'Harry' in it?"

"I don't see –"

"I'm not in a daze, Hermione!" he seemed to be on random topics now. "I don't need to be constantly reminded who I am, and I don't need to be patronised by your serious little voice."

Hermione sat, arms crossed, shocked. How long had this unreleased anger been bottled up within her best friend? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?

All those things he had said made her realise that she was _not_ in fact the nice little boss who everybody admired and adored. She was just another authoritive, patronising boss who was probably viewed from a long distance behind the prongs of a fork. Just what she'd look like in prison. (A/N: If I have to tell you where this reference is from, you are obviously not British. Then again, neither am I, but let's ignore that for a second).

She got up.

"If you asked me here to insult me, then I think that my leave is long overdue." She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, a mixture of dampening and low emotions rolling around inside her.

Hermione had previously felt it when she had learnt that the family's rabbit, Flopsy, had died, and her parents had introduced her to the concept that everybody knew was the only thing guaranteed ever to happen.

She had felt it when it had dawned on her that she had no real friends halfway through first year of Hogwarts.

And she felt it just then – the depressive dawning, she liked to call it. Because in every sense of those words, it was a depressive dawning; when you come to realise that everything you've theorised has been dumped onto the ground with a _crash_ and that the complete opposite happens.

Hermione was about to Apparate back to the office to wallow once again in self-pity and sadness with her beloved colleague ice cream, before Harry got up from his position on the bed.

"Hermione, wait!" Harry was staggering towards her, gripping his head. Some of the sun which leaked through his blinds hit his face and the stubble he had developed cast its own shadow across his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry said, slurring his speech a little. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Hermione stood still, her arms folded. "Go on."

"Can't you tell? I'm kinda drunk." At this remark, he chuckled slightly and gave her a green eyed puppy dog look.

"Yeah, I can tell." Hermione replied wryly, looking around at the white paint of Harry's walls.

"I didn't mean to take everything out on you," he said, putting an arm heavily on Hermione's shoulder. She nearly fell down from the unintentional weight of it. "It's just that I miss Olivia so much. She kept me from binge drinking and skipping work."

Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly hurt. After all, she was the best friend. She had been there for the majority of his life – not some cheap little gold-digger he had met at some random place. And apparently the cheap little gold-digger had been the one to make him feel like life was worth living.

'Who in _your_ life does that for you?' she suddenly asked herself. There wasn't an accurate answer.

"And she was so pretty and nice, and she said that I was the best person to have ever asked her out … she made me feel good about myself, Hermies." Harry continued on, not even realising that Hermione was having a life analysation.

'Who makes _you_ feel about yourself?' she asked herself again.

"Anyway, she was practically my life line," Harry said, almost sobbing now. "She kept me sane, Hermione! She was the one who picked up pieces …"

'Who keeps _you_ sane? Who picks up_ your_ pieces?' she thought.

"But now she's gone!" Harry flung back his head and cried. "She left me, Hermione! I need her!"

'Who needs _you_, Hermione?'

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"Hermione?" Harry was shaking her shoulder. "Hermione!"

She blinked and found herself back in Harry's apartment. She really had forgotten that she was still there.

"Yeah?" Hermione asked in a slight daze.

"Did you hear me?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course I did." She didn't really, but Hermione knew that unless she wanted an encore of what almost guaranteed itself to be a sob story; she had to say that she heard him.

There was a few moments silence.

"You would never leave me, would you?" Harry asked. His grip on her shoulder had tightened slightly. "Because I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here, Hermione,"

"Needless to say, I will, Harry." Hermione said.

"Please tell me you'll stay for me." Harry pleaded, his eyes taking on a puppy like demeanor once more.

"I'm not going to leave you, Harry." Hermione reassured.

"You're like Olivia, Hermione, but you're not. You're better. You're smarter, funnier, more successful and more talented. You might even be prettier than Olivia." An odd glint went across Harry's eye. "You're better than Olivia."

Hermione laughed uneasily. "Oh, well –"

"If you're better than her, then you must be the one for me!" Harry said. She laughed, as though he were joking. Hermione stopped. She saw his face.

"Oh, Harry …" Hermione stuttered.

"No, you really are!" Harry's arm was progressing from her shoulder to around her neck. "I need you, Hermione." His hand went down her neck.

"Harry –" she was getting worried now. He pulled his arm toward him, and she came with it.

"You said you wouldn't leave me; you said that you'd stay with me …" Harry said in an almost whiney tone.

"Yes, but –"

"Then why don't you want to kiss me?" Harry asked. His voice was now bordering on child-like.

"Because I'm –"

"Because you don't like me, do you?" he suddenly roared. Hermione's heart was pounding – she was really scared now.

"No, I –"

"Then kiss me!" Harry yelled. Her eyes were tearing now, and the grip from behind her neck was becoming tighter.

"Please, Harry, don't –"

"Don't what?" Harry asked. He had pulled her so close her face was only centimetres away from his. His voice became calm. "Just once, Hermione. Please? You'll enjoy it, I swear …"

"No, Harry –"

"Just one little kiss … There's no harm in that. Nobody will ever know."

"I don't want –"

"One. Once." He asked. A number of things were running through Hermione's head.

One: Harry is drunk, and therefore cannot comprehend what he is doing.

Two: Harry could actually hurt me, because he is drunk and cannot comprehend what he is doing.

Three: I better do what he says. It's only once, anyway …

"OK." She agreed awkwardly. Harry smiled quaintly.

"Yes, just one,"

He pulled her against himself and pressed his lips against hers. The grip he had on her was joined by his other arm, pulling her closer. He moved his mouth hungrily, as if he were trying to devour her.

_Being drunk no inhibitions._

Harry's breathing become more frequent and wispy as he pulled away.

"Harry, I need to get back to the office," Hermione said. She hoped that he didn't see the prickling water at the corner of her eyes.

"But I need you Hermione," Harry smiled serenly. Hermione was beyond scared now. "Won't you stay?"

"That's _really_ nice of you to offer, but I think I'll …" Hermione managed to wrench herself away from Harry. He managed to; however, maintain a death grip on her arm. Damn Quidditch reflexes.

"I've tried to be nice, Hermione," Harry said. His voice was now extremely calm.

_If there is one thing in the world that is scarier than insanity, it is calmness._

"If you don't stay, I'm afraid I'll have to use force." He squeezed her arm in proof.

"Harry, you're scaring me," Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll snatch you out of your little cradle, if I'll have to," Harry said, ignoring Hermione.

Suddenly, Hermione's face turned from fear to shock. She looked behind Harry with puffy, red, saucer-plate eyes. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyebrows rose in a form of scared but relieved shock. Hermione's mouth moved to form one word.

"Ron?"

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Hermione found herself alone in her office huddled in a little corner, next to her healthy pot plant.

"Stupid lucky plant," she grumbled as her breath shook its leaves slightly. "_It _doesn't have to worry about stupid drunk best friends who try to force you to kiss them."

Hermione looked around her office. It was the first time in a while that she had noticed how big her office actually was. Usually she was in the centre, in her faithful squishy armchair, filing using her faithful pen. And being perved on by Draco. Not exactly faithful; no. He was more like something that you eat and can enjoy when you feel like it. Like oysters.

Hermione stopped her trail of thought. Since when had she thought of Draco as something you eat? And oysters, none the less – a known aphrodisiac. It sounded … well … like she fancied him. She immediately pulled a face, maybe purely for the sake of Tom's dignity.

Then again, Tom wasn't there. Maybe it was Tom's spirit dignity …? Hermione reminded herself never to over-analyse anything ever again. She spied her nice three-seater sofa near her majestic windows and decided to go and seat herself over there.

Harry surely didn't want to hurt her, she thought. He was surely intoxicated; she had smelt the alcohol in his breath. He was surely not insane. Right?

Hermione wasn't quite sure.

And Ron – she felt a stab of something inside of her. She would have loved for him to appear out of nowhere and become the beloved white knight who saved her from her drunken best friend.

Alas; reality is one of the harshest thing anybody can ever face – she definitely knew that. She slipped her hands beneath her face. Ron obviously hadn't been there. When she had called his name, Harry had almost instantly let go of her arm and turn around, expecting his best friend. Of course he wasn't there. Of course Hermione would really act when she needed it. Of course she had Apparated as soon as he had let go.

And then she found herself squatting in the corner of the office, feeling resentful of her pot plant.

Fab.

The lunch break slowly ticked past; Hermione spending the rest of it on the sofa, ignoring the protests of her growling stomach. She stared out the window inanely.

Harry was drunk. Not crazy.

Harry was drunk. Not crazy.

Harry was drunk. Not crazy.

Hermione repeated that to herself over and over and over again, until she was certain that Harry was drunk and not crazy. Self-hypnosis had been known to be quite effective, after all.

The office door slammed shut and Hermione tensed up in her sofa. She suddenly feared if it were Harry, and didn't move, except for a slow movement. Her arm reached into her robes and pulled out her wand; just like she had done at Hogwarts when she had heard a foreign noise during prefect patrolling; or when she had gone on her adventures with Harry and Ron.

She directed her wand to a position on the floor and was about to mutter a spell before a voice interrupted her.

"Watching the world pass in a supposedly philosophical manner?" Draco's voice rang out around the office. Hermione tensed when she realised that he was speaking to her. "Or maybe you're reciting some meaningful poetry to go with the scene of you being enigmatic?"

She closed her eyes. Now was certainly not the time to be faced with stupid Draco and his little comments. Him, and work, was probably the last thing on Earth that she needed, aside from Harry. Hermione wondered if there was anyway of getting Draco to not question her again later that evening and get out of the office at the same time.

The obvious answer was to Apparate, but he would ask her later on. So she got up.

'You only live once,' she thought as she mentally planned to tell Draco everything.

'And you only die once,' another voice chimed in her head.

Draco crossed his arms at the sight of Hermione's puffy and teary red eyes. "Maybe that poetry was a song detailing on how you are fortune's foe?" he asked uncomfortably. He did not like girls who leaked more than waterfalls, let alone the person who employed him.

Hermione Granger was his employer. Draco felt physically sick admitting it.

Hermione didn't say anything in response. She took a step forward.

"Nice get-up there, Granger," Draco said, crooking his head to the side. "What did you do, look in the mirror or something?" (A/N: Pardon the lame comment – it's 12.22am, for goodness' sake!)

_Tom_! Hermione's brain suddenly leapt into action. _Of course_! He _was_ her boyfriend; she should have gone to him. He would understand.

And just as Draco was about to shoot her another snide comment, Hermione Apparated out of the office, leaving Draco with an empty space and a useless comment.

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The atmosphere inside Flourish and Blotts was buzzing. Random witches and wizards were browsing around during their lunch time; some in important and regal looking purple robes, others simply housewives who needed to get out of the house. Hermione noticed that a few young witches and wizards (those of around the age of six and below) were admiring the newly stocked Complimenting books (_guaranteed to make you feel better!_), amongst some adults.

Hermione smiled slightly at the crowd around the Complimenting books. Even though she loved her parents and was thankful that they loved her, she sometimes wished that she had had grown up in a wizarding community, like Ron. Hermione had always wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a magical environment; maybe when she had found out it wouldn't have been such as a shock to her.

Maybe she could have been one of those little witch children crowding around Flourish and Blotts.

Cutting her way through the card, Hermione headed for the door marked 'Staff Only' and hoped to catch a glimpse of Tom. There was certainly a platinum blonde head behind the door, but the face was facing away from Hermione. It bobbed up and down occasionally; Tom was eating a sandwich.

Making a frustrated noise, Hermione looked around before tapping lightly on the glass with a fingernail. The head stopped bobbing and turned around. Tom's eyes lit up when he saw her, even though there were a few alfalfa sprouts hanging out of his mouth.

Normally if she had seen it on practically anybody else, she would have been staring at the sprouts all day, not bothering to tell its owner. But on Tom, she found it cute. He looked a little confused but happy at the same time.

She felt good, knowing that she had the power to make somebody feel good at seeing her. It had been a while since that had happened, as far as she was concerned.

"Hey," Tom said, opening the door. Hermione smiled at him.

"Hello," she grinned, and stepped forward. "You've got something –" she said, instantly regretting it; she had found the alfalfa sprouts dangling out of his mouth rather charming, as if he were a contented cat which had just managed to eat a canary.

"Where?" Tom asked, clueless. He reached up and touched the other clean side of his mouth.

"No, not there … _there_," she said pointedly, as if he could tell where it was from her voice. He resumed looking as confused as ever.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione grinned before closing the gap between them and pressing a kiss to the corner of his lip. She felt him smile against her lips and found him re-directing his head over so that her lips landed squarely in the middle of his. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You taste like alfalfa sprouts," she said as she rested her head against his chest. He smelled like cologne.

"Is that good?" he asked, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her waist.

"I think so; rather rabbit-like, but still good," she laughed when he twitched his nose like a rabbit. They stayed like that for a few minutes.

Truth be told, Hermione quite liked to have stood there all afternoon, her eyes closed as he leant against Tom, whilst he drew absent little shapes with his thumbs. But then she remembered why she had paid that visit in the first place.

"We need to talk," she said, clearing her throat. Tom's thumb stopped (**A/N:** Hehe – Tom Thumb!).

"What do you mean?" he asked. Hermione noticed that he had stiffened up. She could hear his heart beating a little faster.

"Can we talk sitting down?" Hermione asked, pulling her head from him. Nodding mutely, Tom pulled her into the staff room and gestured for her to sit in the seat opposite his.

"So," Tom started. He didn't really finish his sentence.

"I don't know how to say this …" Hermione fiddled with the rounded corner of the table.

"You might as well, Hermione." Tom felt an impending sense of gloom welling up inside of him.

"I'm … I'm having some trouble." Hermione stammered. Her push against the corner was stronger.

"Trouble?" Tom looked up at her. Hermione swallowed. She didn't really think that it was fair _she_ (of all people) got to go out with somebody who was intelligent, thoughtful and _extremely good-looking._

'Not that that matters,' she thought hastily, and then stopped when she realised that nobody would realise what she was thinking.

"Trouble," Hermione repeated.

"What kind of trouble?" Tom asked.

"Harry trouble," Hermione said. Tom blanched.

"Harry trouble?" he looked confused. "What?"

"I'm having trouble … with Harry." Hermione stated weakly. That didn't seem to make much sense.

Toms face shifted, as though something had suddenly dawned on him. He frowned and then just looked disappointed.

"I see." He said, pursing his lips together.

"You do?" Hermione's hand drooped down.

"You're with Harry," Tom face crinkled into a bitter half-smile.

"What?" Hermione asked; her face confused now.

"You're with Harry," Tom repeated. "Unless … Unless you're not."

"I'm not." Hermione said. How could he think that she would get involved with Harry? He was like a brother, a sibling … Well, not now after what he had done.

"Are you sure?" Tom's face lit up. Hermione leaned over the table and her hands clasped Tom's.

"I'm sure." She said, barely in a whisper. She smiled. Tom smiled back. They leaned there, smiling at each other, for quite a time, until Tom leaned forward even more and kissed her. She giggled.

"Now, what's wrong? What's this Harry business?" Tom asked. He was sitting back in his chair; as was Hermione.

As soon as he mentioned Harry's name, Hermione's face had fallen. She was playing with the rounded corner again. She felt her eyes prickling, her nose growing hotter. A strange, heated sensation was travelling up her spine. Her view of the rounded corner was blurring slightly, the picture becoming stretched and obscured.

"Hermione?" Tom suddenly became concerned. Was this normal female behaviour? Where they suddenly happy one second and then depressed the next? Was this what men couldn't understand?

"He forced me to kiss him and I didn't want to, and he was drunk, and he wouldn't let me leave and I really just didn't want to …" Hermione's voice was high-pitched. Her words were slightly muddled and they were slurred. Fat, heavy tears dripped out of her eyes and onto her lap; some even onto the finger she had previously used to play with the corner. She looked at it uselessly.

Hermione had often noticed that when some people cried, they let out all their pent-up emotions. These were the people who suppressed every negative emotion up inside of them, giving the exterior of being strong and the one who could be the one that you confided in. And that usually worked; and to great advantage.

It was only when the emotions decided that they would implode within their body that suddenly all the walls they would have constructed cracked, and fell to pieces. Like it was badly stuck together. Metaphorically; that person would have been a supposedly strong building with a dodgy foundation.

A classic example of building your house on the sand; not the soil.

And it was through noticing all of this, that Hermione finally realised something when she was looking idly at her finger, noticing a few splashes of water; she was one of those people.

And that sucked.

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After a few minutes of strong coffee, conjured jam tarts and a good hug (not to mention snogging) from Tom did Hermione recover. Her boyfriend's lunch break was nearing its end, and Hermione did not want to get him in trouble; she had met his boss before.

"Well, I'd better go," Hermione said, draining her cup. She was going to get over this.

"Why?" Tom asked, getting up.

"Because your lunch break is nearly over and I don't you in any more spats with your boss." Hermione looked around conspiratorially before adding, "He's actually rather insane." Tom laughed.

"You don't think I know that?" he asked. They both stood there for a few seconds.

"I guess I'd be going now …" Hermione wiped at a crumb at the side of her face.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Tom asked. He was so kind, so concerned for her … Hermione smiled.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"I'll stay over at your house if you want to," he offered. Hermione blushed.

"I don't know if we're ready to –"

"I mean to protect you," Tom finished his sentence. Hermione turned even more red. "And get your mind out of the gutter, young lady."

"Well the way you –"

"So would you like me to come over?" Tom asked. He knew that she didn't want to finish her sentence. "We never spend anymore time together, anyway."

"It's OK, Tom, I do have a bodyguard." Hermione said. "A pretty lousy one, but still a bodyguard in some form,"

"Oh." Tom's face drooped down again. He reminded Hermione of a sad puppy. "It's just that we don't go out that much. I really like you, Hermione, and I want to go out and have fun with you."

"I would like to as well, but I can't …" Hermione was getting uncomfortable. "I don't think I'll be able to drag myself out of the house after what happened …"

"You're right, I shouldn't have pushed you," Tom said quickly. His face seemed apologetic, but Hermione couldn't help but notice a strange, sickly gleam in his eye. It had never been witnessed at all previously by Hermione. It made his face look glassy, as though Tom had just thought of something. "We'll find another way to be together," he said in an odd voice that wasn't as kind and gentle as his own. He cleared his throat.

"Well, goodbye for now, then," Hermione said.

Tom smiled, the glassiness gone.

'Maybe I was just hallucinating,' Hermione grasped desperately.

He captured her lips with his and smiled. She tasted like pastry, coffee and jam. Just like he was kissing brunch.

She tasted so much better than brunch, he thought, as he felt her smile.

After what seemed like an age, they broke apart and he planted small kisses along her lips.

"You taste like jam," he said, resting his forehead against Hermione's.

"Now whose mind is in the gutter?" she asked, laughing. Being thoroughly kissed was always the best solution, if it were by somebody that you liked.

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That night at dinner, Hermione had a microwave TV dinner. Draco had an apple.

"How come I don't get any proper food?" Draco asked, scowling at the red fruit before him.

"That _is _proper food," Hermione said, cutting up what seemed to be coloured rubber in the form of a steak.

"No it's not. It's an apple," Draco continued to scowl at its shiny exterior.

"Which is proper food," Hermione said. She looked down at her plastic plate and attempted to swallow the rubber. "Unlike this, which tastes like paper."

"It's a snack." Draco said. He bit into the apple, and it made a satisfying _crunch_. He started chewing. "Isn't there any other food in the house?"

"I'd like to see what you can do with oats, a pear and some chicken powder." Hermione said, flicking on the television. Hopefully something decent would be on.

"I can do plenty," Draco said snootily.

"Really now?" Hermione rolled her eyes. The show she was watching was set in America, in some place called 'Orange County'. Everybody seemed to be beautiful, stylish, rich … She frowned when the episode began with a recap, which in turn began with a girl with honey-coloured hair kissing a guy with honey-coloured hair.

"I can make oats with pear," Draco started. "And also chicken powder oats; and pear just by itself …"

"An apple not quite good enough for you?" Hermione asked, changing the channel.

"No, I found an apple is actually rather common. Found all over the place; more common than pears. There's not much an apple can actually do, you see. Just sits there." Draco took another bite of his fruit. "All you can do is make apple juice, apple pie and just eat your apple."

"And what about a pear? It just does nothing even more; sitting there, all being high and mighty. Believing it's better than the apple. Just because the apple is more common than the pear, it doesn't mean that it's less special." Hermione argued; the metaphorical terms between them quickly disappearing. "The pear is dying out, but pears manage to do more damage than apples. Well let me you this – apples are better than pears, but for the sake of equality, we'll just say that they're both of the same status."

"With pears you can make pear juice, pear preserve, fried pear on toast … the list goes on." Draco continued. He had not noticed that they were both standing up and arguing with each other face to face. "Pears are much more versatile. They're more flexible than the apple. The apple is a wannabe pear – look at its shape. Fat all around. The pear has a more unique shape. It's original."

"Apples taste better." Hermione said simply.

"Pears do." Draco replied.

"Apples,"

"Pears,"

"Apples,"

"Pears,"

"Apples,"

"Let's find out, shall we?" Draco asked gruffly, shoving Hermione against a wall and claiming her lips. Her mouth was dry from arguing so long without a drink; her lips were soft. He had figured that she used lip balm at the least – he _had_ gone through her medicine cupboard, after all.

Hermione made an odd noise; and Draco wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

The crying theory was being put into motion, but not in the way that Hermione would have expected. Pent up emotions were certainly being released; as if a dam had suddenly surged forward. The badly constructed wall with a poor foundation had cracked and was washed away. No crying, though.

Draco now had abandoned her lips and was now heading for her jaw line, her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, her neck … He convinced himself that this was merely for the purpose of ruining Hermione Granger; that he was doing it to break her.

He found himself promising that this would be the last kiss; on her eyelid, on her nose … And each time after he finished he promised that the next one would be the last, and then the next one, and then the next one …

Draco repeated in his head as he trailed kisses around Hermione's neck that he had self-control; he could stop when he thought it was necessary. It was only when he was nibbling her earlobe that he realised he didn't have self-control. He had always thought that he could just stop and smirk and saunter away. And he certainly didn't think that he would enjoy carrying out these plans.

And then, there was that niggling thought in his mind – that he knew he would be wrong.

And wrong he was.

Hermione made the odd noise again. Draco's grip around her waist tightened. Now, however, the noises didn't stop. Dimly, Draco realised that Hermione was struggling against him. And soon, she had pushed him out of the way and was running for her room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco faintly tasted salt. She had been crying?

Surely he wasn't that bad a kisser …

"Granger," he drawled lazily when he reached her door. "Don't hide in there, come outside."

The bedroom door opened quite suddenly and Hermione was standing there strongly. Her eyes were red, her hair was messy.

"Now, didn't that feel –"

_SMACK!_

Draco fell backward and tottered around. Hermione had just punched him! _Hermione _had punched _him_! This was certainly not right …

Finally, Draco regained balance by holding onto the couch arm.

"Bloody, sodding Hell, Granger!" Draco called; a death grip on his cheek. "What the heck did you do that for!"

A few stalking footsteps later, Hermione appeared in his view. She looked angry, triumphant and sad at the same time.

"I am your boss. You are my worker. I have a boyfriend. You have a girlfriend. Every single time you have a time alone with me you seem to think that that gives you permission to force yourself on me!" Hermione was yelling at him. Her bushy hair was swaying around slightly. "I don't need this, Malfoy! My life is _already screwed up_. My boyfriend and I never spend time with each other; I am _stuck_ in a dead-end job that sees me doing _paperwork_ most of the time; my best girlfriend is going out with _you_, one of my other best friends _is missing and it's probably my fucking fault_ and my only other best friend who I thought of as a brother_ forced himself on me today and wouldn't let me leave his apartment until I kissed him_."

Draco took this all in slowly, his pain now down to a dull throb. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, and his cheek red. Hermione Granger had just told her life story – and life woes – to a person that she perfectly hated.

At least, she assumed that she hated him …

"I –" Draco started.

"_Don't you dare, Draco Malfoy_!" Hermione cried. A tear slid down a cheek and landed onto the armrest. "_You have fucking ruined my life! You've screwed up the total balance I had! You know how screwed up I am now – I am not the boring, smart witch everyone thought I was. I have problems too, you know. Just because I graduated at the top of my class does _not_ mean that I don't have PROBLEMS_!"

Another door slam.

Draco slowly got up from his scared position on the armrest. Hermione had just practically sold her soul to him – she had exposed all the things that would crumble walls to him.

Another house on the sand.

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Hermione didn't know how long she had spent on her bed, her vision blurred. (**A/N:** I promise the chapter will finish soon!) It had just dawned on her that everything wrong in her life had been exposed. Utterly, utterly exposed.

'So this is what it's like to be a celebrity,' she thought wryly to herself.

Hermione let herself crumple down onto the bed. Her life was depressing. She was depressing. And it seemed that everything else in the world was _not_ depressing. That just made things even more depressing.

Her digital alarm clock had just flashed _20:00_ when there was a tapping at the window. Hermione got up and opened the window, only not to find the owl she had been expecting. As she opened the window, however, a small envelope fell onto her windowsill. It must have been one of those 'ghost' owls – Hermione had seen them in Zonko's joke shop once when she had been Hogsmeade.

She opened the letter.

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"Why?" Draco asked. He knew he shouldn't be trying to invoke another argument with Hermione, but he couldn't help his tone.

"Because I said so," Hermione replied, a little shrilly.

"That's not an excuse," he said cautiously. Hopefully she wouldn't explode.

"Just … just listen to me, OK?" Hermione said. "You sleep in the armchair, alright? I'll be in the bed. If you need to go to the bathroom, then go to the bathroom. But listen – _you have to really become my bodyguard_." Even Hermione thought that that sounded weak.

"Wait a minute; you just had a giant argument with me, and now you want me to _sleep in your room_?" Draco asked incredulously. "I'm sorry, Granger, but even _I _think that's a bit far-fetched."

"Do you want to make up for being a jerkass, or not?" Hermione asked strongly. "Because if you don't, then you can just get out of my apartment,"

Draco became even more pale at the prospect of being confronted by his mother when she found out that he had been fired. And by a muggleborn, none the less.

"Fine," he said roughly. Draco sat himself down in a cream coloured arm chair – which, oddly enough, suited his skin colour – and watched as Hermione brushed her teeth, put her hair in a bun, and then crawl into bed.

"Remind me why I'm doing this." Draco drawled, leaning back into the chair.

"You might as well try to be a good bodyguard. Because we all have to admit that you pretty much suck at it." Hermione replied simply. Her arm reached for her lamp. "Good night, Malfoy."

He watched her for the entire night; wondering why on earth it was _now_ of all time, to suddenly become interested in the prospect of him actually becoming something he was hired to be. The moonlight was hitting her nose.

He smirked as he remembered kissing it.

Things weren't making sense, Draco thought as he stared at her sleeping form. And then he saw it.

It was poking out from underneath a stack of dirty clothes. A corner of what looked like an envelope.

Careful not to make a noise, Draco got up and walked toward it. He slowly, but steadily, managed to slide the envelope from within the clothes. It was already opened.

He sat back down in his arm chair. So that's why Granger suddenly needed his help.

_You can't stay in your little world forever._

_I'll take you somewhere else, but I guarantee that you won't like it._

_I'm coming for you._

More houses on the sand.

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**A/N:** Before I begin my (extensive and apologetic) author's note, I'd like to thank my best friend Emily – for lending me the name of her toy rabbit Flopsy (even though technically I didn't ask her … I just took it). Check out her stories under her username **little-kity**. Not kitty, **kity**.

For the attentive (and speedy) reader who recognises an extremely subtle and blink-or-you'll miss it character similarity in her story _Fallen_ with the brand-smacking new _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, I will reward with several hundred imaginary Swiss chocolate balls. Mmm ... chocolate!

Well, now that I've babbled endlessly …

_APOLOGIES!_ Unfortunately, I have neglected you dear, faithful readers for such a long time – I must admit that the guilt is creeping up on me quite steadily now; and I am thankful that finally the main plot line has started, even though I know that that does not compensate for my absence – even though the chapter, not including this Author's Note, was **27 pages long**!

_Now_: hurrah for the people for reviewing my story – it is you that I write for, even though the writers' block monster was particularly rampant, as well as the newly thriving high school monster. I also didn't manage to write what I was going to send to all for a gift for reviewing (I must say, I was quite hurried in publishing the chapter I kind of neglected it …).

So as a special treat, the people who reviewed from the time from last update till this one will receive two gifts: An imaginary Pygmy Puff of any colour (read _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ for further reference) and an imaginary _huge, huge, huge_ block of milk chocolate filled with caramel – or any flavouring you would like. Collect your imaginary puff and chocolate if you're:

**Divine Cruelty**, **butterscotchwarrior, kerry, SmilinStar, Sunflower18, Lady-Delphinea** (who gets two of each!) **, April, Black Aliss, NitenGale, penguin of death, foxeran, xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo, Eliot Z. Wheatherbee, BIGHARRYFAN**, **marc,** **HGDM lova, blonde-brain, Abel Fyre, lotrhpchick15, HgBookworm, Nubia, Lipglossnblack, Red and Gold, Christi-Lynn **(who gets two of each!)**, alien726, marauderbabe289, .Aurorablu., princess-amelia **(who gets _three_ of each!)**, pinkstar146, Bix, ashira-BoOkLoVeR, Narwhal Girl, Fiona McKinnon, d-iirrty, blondestbrunnette, Nathifa Femi, rani singala, phoenixtamer150, kawaiitie, finally-defeated, EmilyEB, mea **(who gets two of each!)**, natyslacks, DCMMFAN, Chantal J, xXWitchXx, AnonymousHatred, GHG **and **OphidiaHerba** (awww, that's sweet of you to say!).

For reviewing Chapter 11, you will all receive 10kg of Swiss chocolate, as well as some strawberries and some other fruits, _plus _fondue (of the cheese or chocolate variety) to dip your fruit in it.

If any of you have any suggestions on what I should give out next, please feel free to tell me in your reviews – goodness knows that I'm running out of treats to give you all …

Some thanks for the following people:

Sophie Ellis Bexter for her Flip N Fill Remix of her song _Music Gets the Best of Me_ – it helped me write the chapter.

Whoever the heck it is at the board of education who gives us kiddies two weeks off to get fat and watch daytime TV (and they're wondering why child obesity is rising …).

Rupert Grint and his ridiculous hair for making me laugh so much that it put me in a good mood to write. Apologies to the Rupert fans!

My magical muse J.K. Rowling for writing _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Whenever she writes/publishes a new book, I get an urge to write as well. Her style of polished and professional writing inspires me to try and write the way she does; her plot lines, her wording, everything (though I must say what you read was not J.K. writing; you smart cookies would have all figured out that nobody could imitate her)! I must say that without J.K. Rowling you wouldn't be reading this chapter.

Daniel Radcliffe – despite the fact that when I found out he was only in the _state below mine_ it caused me to stop writing for a week at the very least, I still would like to thank him – just because I feel like it. And besides … everybody needs to obsess over something in their lives. I think I've found mine …

Apples and pears – I swear to you all that I made the entire argument about apples and pears up as I wrote it all. I soon realised all the differences and similarities, and found out how discriminatory you can be against fruit, not to mention how much of a fruit I was for analysing it for so long.


	12. Observations

**The Bodyguard**

(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)

**Disclaimer:** While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other entertainment programs, films, etc do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).

**Summary:** She was the successful, intelligent and hard-working Ministry official. He was the partying, rich and gorgeous playboy. But when Hermione Granger is unwittingly hired a bodyguard in the form of Draco Malfoy, the people who believe that opposites attract even say that they themselves are wrong ...

Right?

**Note:** Once again, French appears during this chapter. Use the wonders of Google Translator to figure it out. :)

**Another Note:** This chapter is for my buddy Leigh who turned the scary age of 15 on, coincidentally, 15th September. A long distance 'Happy Birthday' to Leigh (as the Yanks have taken you away) – and may your threats for a new chapter be quelled.

THE BODYGUARD

Chapter 12 – Observations

Draco Malfoy liked to think of himself as somebody that you could look up to when you desperately needed some help. Not that he would offer helpful advice.

No, Draco was more the type of person who waited for somebody in need to come crawling to him, begging for help. He, of course, would valiantly oblige, throwing in a few random smirks and smug looks.

Then in true Malfoy fashion, he would give troubled advice, and would kick back and relax whilst watching somebody else ruin their own life.

And so he found himself sitting in a cream coloured chair in the bedroom of Hermione Granger. He was indeed kicking back and relaxing, and was also watching somebody ruining their life.

Moonlight was seeping in through the small slits between the blinds which had not quite closed. It illuminated Hermione's pale blue blankets and sheets, the exposed parts lighter than the others. Her blankets periodically rose up and then down.

For some odd reason, Draco liked watching people sleep. He liked seeing how people acted when they didn't even know that they were being watched; when they ate, when they did work, and finally, when they slept.

He preferred the last out of all three of the previously mentioned. Draco found that when people slept they didn't really show any particular personality, not really any bias, prejudice, or beliefs. Just a seemingly dull face.

But one man's trash could be another's treasure. Considering that, Draco had found his jackpot. When studying people as they were sleeping, Draco took into consideration that when you sleep, your innermost personality, beliefs and feelings were shown through the face. A person would not be aware enough to be on their guard. Their feelings were up for exhibition.

And Draco loved that power.

He was a Malfoy – Draco Malfoy, none the less – and power that came into any form appealed to him. Even small amounts which other people weren't even aware of; he found that power to be the one which felt the best.

He studied Hermione's face.

It was crossed with what looked like frustration, sadness, and apprehension. Her brow was slightly furrowed as she breathed steadily in and out. Her mouth was turned down in a show of sadness. And a small wrinkling in her nose indicated apprehension.

It was after a few moments that Draco decided there was turmoil in Hermione's life; he wasn't sure if that was how she looked like normally when she was sleeping. He had never watched Hermione sleep, though he had never really shown any interest in it before.

Draco touched his lips with the tip of his thumb in a thinking pose, his elbow resting on its appropriate arm rest. He surely didn't want to create so much turmoil in Hermione's life; he was sure that what he did was making her anxious enough.

Draco looked over to the stack of dirty laundry in the corner of Hermione's bedroom. The corner of the envelope was barely visible, sticking out between a few differently coloured garments. He thought about the letter.

It was dodgy, to say the least.

Suspicious? Yes.

Badly-written? Of course.

Intended to scare? Maybe … he hadn't decided on that one yet.

Draco had been with his father before he had gone to jail. He had watched Lucius Malfoy write kidnap and death letters all the time, his face screwing up into a cruel smirk. It slightly sickened Draco that somebody could take pleasure into creating so much fear.

But then again, Draco was always a man of great contradiction.

The letter seemed to have the intention to scare as well as physically harm, and the contents was certainly written quite damning. It had been sent on an expensive looking sort of paper, light brown in colour.

And Draco knew how the writer was feeling when they had written the letter. He had done handwriting analysis in advertently when looking at his father when he wrote spiteful letters. Hard and strong strokes indicated an angry person; a person with slanted and lighter coloured writing was more likely to be more relaxed.

He knew how the writer had felt. Oh, did he know …

Hermione stirred in her sleep, a soft little sleeping moan escaping from her. She had turned slightly in her sleep, and was now on her back, as opposed to her previous position on her right side. Draco could see her face quite clearly now.

There was a form of restlessness on her face now; as if she were impatient after waiting for something. Her features frowned slightly. The moonlight was hitting her cheek bone mostly, giving her face a hollowed-out look.

Draco would never admit it, and he would never say it out loud or even fully acknowledge it; but if she hadn't been a muggleborn, but a pureblood, he would have had at least tried to subtly hit on her.

It was, it seemed; society's rule that if you were pretty, you needed a pretty partner. Draco's eyebrows knotted in thought. Did that mean he was a pretty boy?

No, of course not, he reassured himself quickly. There's nothing wrong with being a pretty boy, though … he added.

Hermione groaned again in her sleep, and shifted into a presumably more comfortable position. Her hair was being hit by the moonlight now.

Draco kept on thinking. He was never this restless when he slept; at least, he didn't think he was. Once he got into bed and turned off the lights and closed his eyes; that was the way he stayed for the rest of his sleep. He hardly ever moved. He could tell from his positioning when he woke up that he barely moved at all.

Draco even remembered as a child he measured the distance between his nose and his nightstand; it came in at 25cm. Then, when he woke up in the morning, he measured the distance again; 23cm. He found it fascinating to discover things you didn't even know about yourself.

By now, Draco was aware that he was feeling quite groggy. The cream arm chair, though small, was surprisingly comfortable. He vaguely remembered there had been pillows on it when he sat down.

But now he was feeling cold, as well as tired. Looking around, he realised that his blanket had been left on the sofa. Frowning, he looked forlornly at the doorway, hoping that he would get his blanket silently. He did not want to wake up Hermione; it would ruin the look on her face. He knew that if she discovered he was watching her, she would deliberately put on a fake face when she went to sleep.

'The _Accio_ charm could work …' he thought to himself as he settled languidly on the cushions. 'No, that would be too loud,'

So Draco had to do without his 900 thread count blanket. He looked around wistfully; he was, after all, Draco Malfoy. There was no way that he would sleep without a blanket when he needed one.

Hermione's pink, fluffy dressing gown was resting on the edge of the bed. Draco presumed that whenever she woke up she would grab it and pull it on; then be ready to tackle the day, and Draco's comments.

So he grabbed the bathrobe and it covered him from the chest down to his ankles. Draco crossed his legs, and the bathrobe ended up pooling on the floor in front of him. At least he was warm.

And, for the rest of the time he was awake, Draco studied Hermione Granger's face. He noticed that she had dimples when her eyebrows knitted. He noticed that sometimes when she slept her mouth would be slightly open; that she curled up into a ball during most of her sleep.

He fell asleep watching her face.

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The clock hit 06.30.

"Alright, up and at them, you lazy girl!" the alarm clock on Hermione's bedside table started screeching. "Oh come on, you can't have had _that_ many tequilas' last night that you can't get up …"

Hermione groaned loudly and reached out for the stupid clock. Yes, it came from Harry. Yes, it insulted. Yes, she was trying to destroy it. Her hand batted at it irritably and insistently.

"OW! Watch it, you ham-fisted cow!" the alarm clock yelled. Finally, Hermione found the _off_ button and managed to shut the stupid thing up. She heard a yawn.

"Enjoying yourself there?" Draco had obviously been woken up as well, and he was stretching like a cat from his position in the arm chair.

"Hardly," she replied stonily, sitting up and patting around blindly for her bathrobe.

Draco took a subtle notice at what she was wearing – a pink satin top, from his angle. When she had gone to bed the night before, she had on an oversized T-shirt and boxer shorts; not in the least sexy.

"What happened to the t-shirt?" he asked casually, gladly noting that he had the bathrobe she was looking for as a blanket on him.

"What?" she asked groggily, wiping at her hair.

"I said, what happened to the t-shirt?" Draco pulled up the bathrobe and folded it, placing the end result on his lap. "Your pyjamas,"

"Huh? Oh, sometimes I take it off at night when it's too hot." Draco raised an eyebrow slightly. Who knew that the sensible, laced up Hermione Granger wore slightly … well … naughty sleepwear?

"Where the bloody heck is my bathrobe?" she suddenly exclaimed in frustration.

"Are you always this uncoordinated in the morning?" Draco asked, folding his arms. He enjoyed watching Hermione when she was annoyed; there was something entertaining about it.

"No, but I'm ready to be angry in the morning," she said, and pushed back the cover. Hermione walked over to Draco, having finally spotted her bathrobe, her nightgown at a sensible mid-calf length. "I'll thank you for giving that back to me," she snapped waspishly, yanking the bathrobe from his lap.

"You're quite welcome," he replied with a smug smile.

Tottering about in her bathrobe, Hermione made it to the bathroom and closed the door. Draco got up and headed for the kitchen.

Try as she might, Hermione Granger could not hide all of the pent-up emotions swimming around inside of her. As she started wetting her face towel with some hot water, Hermione looked into the mirror. The usual tired, grumpy and reddish face looked back.

Then she drew focus to her eyes.

It was with a slight face of dismay that she remembered what had happened last night. She had confessed everything, _everything_ to Draco bloody Malfoy. She remembered how she had yelled at him with reckless abandon whilst he had a scraped cheek and was cowering on the armrest of her couch. She remembered slamming her bedroom door.

She remembered crying.

Hermione looked back into the mirror. Her eyes would have been bloodshot; almost as red as her cheeks were now. Suddenly a thought hit her, and she felt sick.

Draco Malfoy knew everything personal about her life.

And the worse thing was, she had told him everything that he knew. She may have been in a state of slight hysteria, _but she had still told him_.

An abrupt burning sensation met her fingers. Swearing, Hermione realised that she had left the hot water on for her face towel and had forgotten to turn it off. In new found anger, she wrenched on the cold water tap, and her fingers were instantly greeted with more scalding hot water; water needed time to cool down in between changing temperatures.

"Argh, crap!" she said, angrily pulling her finger away. It was a deep red colour, and it stung profusely. This was probably the only other thing she needed.

When the water had cooled down, Hermione pushed her hand underneath the steady flow once again, and was satisfied that the stinging feeling had disappeared.

Blooming heck she wished she could change her life.

It wasn't the first time that she had contemplated the thought; when she had been labelled a know-it-all by Snape, or Draco himself during school years, she had often wondered why she didn't change and become a know-it-all in the areas that weren't magical; why she hadn't just returned to normal school and live her life with the secret of being a witch.

But then, being the smart witch that she was, Hermione had realised how complicated it would have been, how resentful she would have been, and how lucky she was – you were lucky if you were born magical; twice as much if you weren't but acquired the gene. And, besides, Hermione Granger was an appreciative person. So she would appreciate her gift.

Whether she liked it or not.

After finishing up in the bathroom, Hermione came out, not-quite-ready for the onslaught that Draco would imminently bring. She was sure that when she sat down at the kitchen table - cutting up pears to put into her cereal – Draco would pop out of nowhere and say something like, "Still want to confide in me, Granger?" with a giant, annoying smirk on his face.

But when she sat down and started pouring milk into her bowl of bran (the pears had already cut themselves up) and Draco sat down opposite her, he didn't say anything. He wasn't watching her, or even giving the slightest hint of doing so.

Her cereal emitted crunching noises as she pushed the bran underneath the layer of milk. It provided an awkward noise filler in between the two.

She looked at him quickly through side glances. He was calmly sorting through the fruit bowl on the table, distracted superficially. Overturning an orange here, gently tossing aside an apple there. Draco Malfoy seemed collected; perhaps even bored.

And Hermione knew that whenever Draco Malfoy was bored, he was bound to create fun for himself. Trying to ignore her intuitive side, however, she scooped up some bran and pear and shovelled it into her mouth.

'It's here; right here. He's going to say something … NOW!' Hermione thought; sub-consciously leaving a spot of silence for Draco to comment. There was nothing.

Hermione swallowed and half-heartedly returned to her bowl; the ticking of her wall clock piercing the noise.

There was a clinking of glass on something fine, and Hermione's head snapped instinctively to the glass bowl. However, it turned out to be nothing more than Draco accidentally hitting the bowl with his polished fingernails.

Hermione spooned another mouthful of bran and pear into her mouth.

"So, Granger," Draco smiled superlatively at her, his white teeth camouflaging into his pale skin.

'Here we go,' Hermione thought. She chewed as she waited for him to finish his sentence.

"Got any other hot gossip on yourself that you would like to report?" Draco's teeth stayed where they were; the prospect, let alone sight, of Draco Malfoy smiling for so long, was rather daunting.

Hermione cleared her throat and kept chewing. Silence was infuriating; she had learnt that just then.

"No?" Draco asked, his grey eyes flitting over her chewing figure. He seemed to be searching for lost; untold information. "Anything else about work, perhaps, you would like to report on?"

'I'd like to fire you,' she thought bitterly, swallowing.

'Yeah right,' the evil voice said in her head. 'Maybe you would if he wasn't so good looking and so smart and so witty and so –'

'Shut up,' she thought tiredly. Was it really that normal to be fighting with the voices in your head?

"So nothing on work then," Draco said, his spoon twirling around in the cereal bowl. He lowered his head to meet her eyes with his. Hers were previously staring at the table before they were confronted with the sight of Draco's. She looked away, blinking.

"Well; there's got to be _something_ that you'd like to divulge to me," Draco asked innocently. His fingers returned to the fruit bowl, and he made a little satisfied noise when he picked out a few cherries. "How's your love life, Granger?" he asked, as he popped one of the red fruits symbolically.

Hermione cleared her throat. If that had not happened to her, she would have been laughing. However, that _had_ just happened to her, and she was not in the mood for this kind of behaviour. Not that she ever was in the first place.

"Come up with a blank, again?" Draco, in his clearly self-satisfied smirk, delighted in tormenting Hermione. Goodness knew with all that pent-up energy, and being sober in the morning was giving him a new lease on life – screw up Hermione's one.

Hermione mumbled something.

"What was that?" Draco swallowed the cherry he had been chewing contentedly. His lips were stained a pale red colour; clashing somewhat with his pale skin.

"I said 'screw you', Malfoy." Hermione repeated frostily.

"Well, I would gladly welcome that," Draco's cherry lips spread into a wide, toothy smile. "And here I was thinking that your love life was positively over. Pardon me; I am _quite _mistaken."

"Quite," Hermione agreed.

The spoon in her bran and pear was tapping incessantly against the bowl she was using; the rhythm steadily growing quicker, until she dropped the spoon altogether and leaned back in her chair.

Draco was leaning on his arm. Hermione hoped that his elbow would slip off the table and his chin would come into contact with the table in nice, clean _thump_.

"I'm – I'm going to work," she said in a tone that was both decisive yet confused. Hermione went and grabbed her coat from her bedroom doorknob.

Draco smirked. He had certainly gotten under her goat.

"Leaving so soon?" Draco got up from the table as Hermione started pulling on her coat. "Why don't you show me some manners? I'm here, trying to make conversation with you, and you ignore me! Rudeness …" Draco gave her another self-satisfied smirk. Hermione could feel her face burning.

Right now, it was a little pink in colour. Soon, it would be full blown blushing.

"Though I do have to note that you were quite responsive yesterday; I didn't even have to say anything and you just wouldn't shut up …"

Red.

"I used to think that you talking had its merits; however, now, I seem to be quite happy for you to be yapping away,"

Tomato.

"So, _one more time_, anything else you'd like to say?"

"Drop dead, Malfoy." Was the reply he received, before Hermione Apparated to the office.

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The office was once again alive with busy and buzzing activity. Paper airplanes with little messages inside whizzed around above peoples' heads. The place smelled like pumpkin juice; whether it had come straight from the pitcher or in somebody's mug. Conservative wizarding types were walking around in their sensible robes and work shoes. Most were carrying earmarked pages covered in highlighter.

_Most _of them.

Tamara Harding was bending over a solid looking wooden desk, her originally un-sensible work skirt now pooling up above her knees. She seemed to be reaching for something on the top of a cubicle.

"Morning, Tammy," Hermione greeted. Tammy jerked up suddenly and her knees collided painfully with the desk.

"Ow – hello, Hermione." She rubbed her knees and peered at them, pouting. "How are you?" she asked, looking up, but still rubbing her knees.

"Fine … I guess …" Hermione's face twisted as she recalled the past events.

"Are you sure?" Tammy asked, the painful twangs in her knees disappearing slowly.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, I'm fine." She offered a hand.

"Thanks," Tammy grunted, flashing her immaculate smile as she took the hand, and hoisted herself up. "Now, do you want some pumpkin juice?"

"Sure," Hermione smiled, slowly following her to the table carrying the pitcher of juice.

What was wrong with her? Usually, Hermione would tell Tammy everything about her life – what it is was like to be eating a TV dinner whilst watching bad soap opera re-runs; what is was like being the boss of the office and being totally lost in it all; what shampoo and conditioner she used; which destination she'd like most to travel to; which famous wizard and which famous muggle she'd like to marry; everything.

Tammy had been there through it all – like one of those metaphorical sisters; though Hermione preferred not to think of her in such a sappy way, even though Tammy deserved that title very much.

So why wasn't she telling Tammy about the letter? About the potentially life-threatening letter; no matter how much of a dud it was bound to be.

Hermione opened her mouth.

"Tammy, I've got to tell you some—"

"_Bonjour, mon cancrelat laid._" Draco's smooth voice cut Hermione mid-sentence, just before he gave Hermione a warning look.

"_Bonjour_, yourself!" Tammy squealed happily; slipping her arms around Draco's neck. Hermione looked away. This wasn't exactly a comforting sight.

"_Je trouve vos cheveux sales et en mauvais état._" Draco sprouted further, playing around with Tammy's brown hair.

"_Je souhaite que vous cessiez de taquiner cette personne._." Hermione muttered to herself than anyone.

"_Jamais._" Draco said back. Tammy giggled. "_Votre tête est pleine d'air._" Hermione snorted, and Tammy gave her a slightly reproachful look.

"I'm going." Hermione turned on her heel and headed for her office. It seemed like she only did so because she either didn't want to hear Tammy getting insulted further; or because she remembered what she was doing with Draco Malfoy and that stupid mouth of his last night.

And how he knew how to use it.

_Boy_, did he know how to use it.

Making an irritated noise to herself, Hermione pushed open her office door and seated herself in her familiar squishy armchair.

This place, her office, was one of the most secure places to her in the entire world. It was her own little private quarters, a place where she could do as she pleased amongst the demands of work. Hermione often thought of it as a home away from home.

She had barely settled herself in her chair when Draco opened the door and walked in.

"Had enough fun for one day?" Hermione asked ruefully as she started on the morning's filing.

"Not quite," Draco smirked, standing right next to Hermione's chair. He crossed his arms; one hand subconsciously reaching into his robes to manage a firm grip on his wand.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, noticing his close proximity. Usually, he was at least two metres behind her, looking more bored than anything.

"Bodyguard-ing." Draco quipped.

"What?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Bodyguard-ing." Draco repeated. "I'm guarding your body."

"Yes, well can't you guard my body from a distance?" Hermione asked irritably.

"That wouldn't work then, would it?" Draco asked smugly.

"What is up with you?" she suddenly asked. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon?"

"I said, what is wrong with you?" Hermione snapped irritably.

"I don't know about you, Granger, but I at least, seem to harbour some … thoughts on that little letter you received –" Instantly Draco knew he had made a mistake.

"_What_?" she asked deadly. Silently.

"Nothing." Draco said promptly. He had to lie pretty profusely to get himself out of this situation.

"No, it wasn't 'nothing'." Hermione slowly got up from her chair. Draco was averting her eyes. "What did you say?"

"I said 'nothing'." Draco said; a bored look over his face as he looked at her.

"Before that," Hermione insisted, getting a little impatient.

"Nothing," Draco repeated firmly.

"Tell me," she said.

"Fine!" Draco said, uncrossing his arms. "I read your stupid little letter, OK?" Hermione's face was grim.

"How _dare you_ do such a thi –"

"No, I'm sorry, that's the wrong answer." Draco intercepted. He took the opportunity of Hermione being momentarily silenced to continue. "Granger, you got sent a note from somebody's who wants to kidnap you. _Kidnap_ you."

He took note of her flustered face.

"And yet you seem to live your little life on, despite it. You don't tell your friends. You don't tell your boyfriend," Draco spat out that last word with a little contempt, to his surprise, "and you don't even tell your bodyguard."

"So?" Hermione seemed to have remembered that she could a say in this discussion. "It's none of _your _business."

"It's my business if you're going to get hurt." Draco said quietly.

Hermione's brain stopped working. Since when did Draco Malfoy care about her?

No, wait, scratch that.

Since when did Draco Malfoy care about _anybody_?

"Since when did you care about me?" she asked, voicing her thoughts exactly.

"Since I am the bodyguard," Draco replied.

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It was during lunch that it happened.

Hermione was enjoying a nice sandwich (chicken, lettuce, mayonnaise) and some pumpkin juice at her desk. She was going through some Ancient Rune papers (Hermione's equivalent of fun puzzles from the newspaper some people do) and happily decoding by using the key at the bottom of the page when …

A tapping at the window.

Hermione dropped her quill with a shaky hand, nearly knocking over her ink pot. The last time she had heard that noise, something bad had happened, to say the least. And so to hear it again in such a short amount of time was not healthy.

Draco, in the meantime, had turned around and opened the window. A small letter, like the one he had opened when he was watching Hermione sleep, fell onto the window sill, addressed simply to 'Hermione Granger'.

"Where the heck is the owl?" Draco asked bemusedly, letter in one hand, scratching his head with the other.

'Crap.' Hermione thought. She got up and snatched the letter from Draco's hands.

"_Oi!_" Draco protested, whirling around. He made to re-snatch the letter back; but Hermione had already opened it.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

_It's just a matter of time …_

Hermione paled. She had been secretly clinging onto the hope that the first letter was really just a hoax; or something that was just a joke. A cruel, merciless hoax – yet still a hoax.

This wasn't a hoax.

"Give me that –" Draco grabbed the letter from Hermione's growingly limp hands. The energy came rushing back into her form as soon as the letter left her hands.

She didn't want him to see it – a stupid idea – perhaps because she wanted something; _anything_ that was currently personal to her not to be exposed. Hermione knew that was stupid – risking her own safety for something private to remain in her private life. A part of her let Draco take it.

" 'Tick, tock'?" Draco asked incredulously. "This person has ridiculously bad writers' block." Hermione blinked.

"What?" she asked.

"You heard me," Draco said in a tired voice, reading the letter over. "Anyone could have written this – you're deranged boyfriend, as you say, even could have."

"_What_?" she repeated. Draco rolled his eyes and dropped the letter onto her Ancient Runes paper with a _plop_.

"I'm saying that it could have been _anybody_ who sent you that letter – don't discount anybody." Draco said simply. Hermione looked at him oddly. He seemed to be taking this quite well. Then again, he wasn't the one being threatened.

"Even the 'deranged boyfriend', as you put it?" Hermione asked carefully.

"You said he was the 'deranged boyfriend' originally," Draco lied.

"When did I say that?"

"A while ago,"

"You remember things I said 'a while ago'?" Hermione asked incredulously, on the verge of laughing.

"Bouncing ferrets do have good memories."

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Why was she even here?

It was seven o'clock at night, and Hermione was standing at Tom's door. It was a navy blue one, made of wood, and had a brass door knocker on it. She had a sudden urge to run; or Apparate away from where she currently was.

Where did she get this sudden urge to come here? Certainly, it hadn't stemmed from a lot of careful thought and consideration. She hadn't, as a matter of fact, given any thought or consideration into this. It seemed almost spontaneous.

Gathering up her courage, and in advertently holding in her breath, Hermione grabbed the door knocker and knocked three times.

"Just a minute!" Tom called. Hermione was fiddling with one of her nails. It was a little habit she had when she was nervous. Once again, she considered running away.

Before she even had time to move, however, the door swung open.

There stood Tom in a nice grey, woollen jumper and black pants. His hair was all messy and he was wiping his hands with a damp dish towel. From the looks of things, it seemed like he had been playing around with an ink set; there was ink on his fingers and on the dish towel; and expensive paper was littered around the home.

"Hermione!" he said, the dish towel falling to the ground as he gave her a small kiss on the lips. She managed a smile.

"Hello, Tom," she said in a bit of a forced voice.

"Come in, come in!" he said, stepping back from the doorway in order to let her through. "I've just been practising some calligraphy."

"Er, no it's OK." Hermione said. Tom, his face showing a slightly deflated look, stood back into the doorway.

"Are you alright?" he asked, one hand gripping onto the doorframe.

"Not really, no." she replied. Hermione grimaced and looked at the bottom of the door whilst she thought about how to break this to Tom in the nicest way possible.

"Well, can I do anything for you, then?" he asked. He followed her eyes down to the pavement. "Are my stairs sticky or something?"

"Oh, no," Hermione looked up. How was she going to say this? "Look, Tom, I think that …"

"Mmm?" he asked, still looking at the pavement.

"I think that we should … see other people."

Tom looked up. "What?"

"I think that we should see other people," she repeated.

"But ... but …" Tom looked sadly around, as if his question and its answer were somehow floating around Hermione's head. "Why?"

'Because you could have written the note,' a sudden thought popped into Hermione's head. Hermione gulped. It was all falling into place now – Tom, the neglected boyfriend whose deprived of Hermione's presence; Tom, the person who had access to _expensive looking paper_; Tom, the guy who had just been writing something mysteriously as she arrived.

He wrote the note.

"I think we should see other people because …"

'You have homicidal tendencies.' She completed in her mind.

"We shouldn't continue if I never see you – you're being left to your own devices far too much than you should be if you were seeing someone. And I have to do it for me too. I'm finding it hard to relate to you emotionally because we never see each other." Hermione sprouted. Momentarily, she thought that she was writing an essay and everything seemed so methodical; logical.

"But we see each other!" Tom said, straightening up from his previous position. "See? You're with me right now! That's got to count for something,"

"Not when it's to break up." She whispered to herself. "I'm sorry, Tom, but … we have to end it. I don't want to continue this anymore."

"OK," Tom accepted suddenly. "I'm sure that one day we'll get back together."

"Tom, I don't think that –"

"_One day_, you will see how you were wrong, Hermione Granger." Tom maintained firmly. "We'll be back together, and you'll wonder why you did this."

"I seriously don't think, Tom, that –"

"One day, Hermione. One day." Tom said. He gave her a small peck on the cheek. "Until that day ..."

"Goodbye, Tom."

She Apparated back to her apartment.

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_(Sorry if this part is a bit fluffy; I didn't feel like evil-Draco at this particular moment)_

Once again, Hermione found her love in ice cream. She was perched precariously on a small, black iron barstool of a chair that was against the kitchen countertop. A trashy soap opera was playing on TV; the borders of the screen misted in a computer generated haze.

Currently, a particularly bold and beautiful character was arguing with another bold and beautiful character about the validity of the first character's mother's heart attack.

"I'm going to die! Die because of what your mother has fabricated, just to drive us apart!" the second bold and beautiful character's yelled, melodramatic tears streaming down her pretty face.

"Lucky cow." Hermione deadpanned, scooping her spoon further into the depths of chocolate chip.

"What do we have here?" Draco entered the scene, spotting the television. "Ooh, this show is good!" He plopped down on the couch, before he had time to correct his mistake.

"You like this show?" Hermione asked dully but incredulously, her spoon no longer moving.

"No." Draco said, averting his eyes from the television.

"You do! You just said so!" Hermione smiled slightly. "Draco Malfoy, pureblood Slytherin, enjoying something Muggle. This _is_ a sight."

"I'm _not_ enjoying it," he cut through smoothly. He spied the ice cream container. "Though, you seem to be enjoying that ice cream of yours,"

"It's been a long day," Hermione said, her spoon digging again. Draco got up and got a spoon. He plopped himself, to Hermione's surprise, directly opposite to her.

"You've been out," he said, smiling triumphantly at his deduction.

"No I haven't." Hermione lied instantly.

"Yes you have." Draco smiled, scooping some ice cream.

"No I haven't!" Hermione repeated.

"See how it feels like now?" Draco asked, slowly pulling the oval part of the spoon out of his mouth.

"Shut up," she said.

There were a few seconds of actual silence, before Draco once again started talking.

"So where did you go?" he asked, dipping the spoon again.

"I didn't go anywhere." Hermione said in a tired tone of voice.

"You've got that ridiculously pink cotton coat on. You've been out." Draco smugly said.

"I do not wear this coat just to go out!" Hermione was shocked.

"Do you ever wear it inside?" Draco asked, once again pulling the spoon slowly out of his mouth. Hermione watched him.

"What?" she asked, slightly drugged at the sight of him sensually eating ice cream. God, this man could make anything sexy, she realised.

"I said, 'do you ever wear it inside?'. Goodness, Granger, you need to pay more attention," Draco smirked. Oh so fun to tamper with her mind.

"Well, no," she said as he dipped the spoon into the container.

"Exactly; you've been out." The ice cream rolled smoothly onto his spoon. "So what did you do?"

"Break up." Hermione said. Draco's spoon stopped rolling.

"What?"

"I said, 'break up.' Goodness, Malfoy, you need to pay more attention," Hermione smirked a little to herself, before returning to the ice cream.

"Ahh, is your little boyfriend crushed?" Draco asked. He didn't know why, but he felt quite buzzing inside. It was probably the amounts of sugar in this ice cream.

"Ex-boyfriend," Hermione offered. Draco swallowed his latest spoonful and stopped, placing the spoon onto the countertop. He studied Hermione. She wasn't taking any of the bait tonight; she seemed almost too tired/heartbroken/whatever the heck it was, to do anything. She was almost friendly when she wasn't ready to hurt him.

"Why did you break up with him?" he asked. The spoon remained on the countertop. The ice cream was going to ruin his physique.

"I don't know." Hermione lied.

"You're lying." Draco said at once. He knew when he was being lied to; he _was_ a Malfoy, after all.

"Why do you want to know, anyway?" Hermione asked flatly. There was no stirring energy in her that empowered her to abuse Malfoy with her ridiculously large vocabulary. It was gone; all gone.

"Curiosity for the large part, I guess." Draco slowly wiped some of the little beads of water forming on the outside of the container away. Hermione stared, her cheeks going inexplicably red. "But any information is good information. I've got to protect you, you know," he added in when she looked at him quizzically.

"Oh, really Malfoy, do you think that I went out to cause more danger to myself?" Hermione snapped.

"No, but like I said … any information is good information." Hermione ducked her head down and focused on the little brown chips in the smooth, rolling hills of vanilla. There was a flash of grey – Draco's eyes. He was trying to get her to look at her.

She looked up and at then at him. He had folded his arms on the countertop, and he was bent forward; toward her. He had pulled up the sleeves of his button down shirt up to elbows, and his hair was ruffled. It looked a bit wet – he had just taken a shower. And he smelt nice. Draco Malfoy smelt nice.

Hermione snorted at her observation. She thought Draco smelt nice. How very odd.

"I thought he wrote the letter." She confessed.

'But is that all?' she suddenly thought. 'There wasn't any other contributing factor to that, _at all_?' Then it dawned on her. And it wasn't a good dawning.

"Well, I guess that's justified then, isn't it?" Draco asked, blinking a bit to get his hair out of his eyes. "Your breaking up with little lover boy was justified."

"What does that prove?" she asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Draco said, not joking at all. He paused. If he wasn't joking at all, then why did he say it? Surely not to comfort the girl?

He wasn't attracted to Hermione. OK, he wasn't _entirely_ attracted to Hermione. There were tiny, miniscule sparks when he had snogged her for his own benefit, but apart from that, there was nothing.

"I guess this is the part where I break down in tears and you play hero and comfort me with a great big snog," Hermione concluded wryly, surprised at her boldness. Draco raised an eyebrow. "I cry, you let out your closet romantic, and we proceed to snog for the next half hour."

"Excuse me?" Draco asked. Since when did Hermione Granger develop gall?

"You heard me." She said, going back to the ice cream.

Draco got up, picking up his spoon. He walked to the sink, washed the utensil, and then put it in its appropriate spot in the drawer.

"Just so you know, Granger, I am _not_ a closet romantic." Draco countered, leaning into her ear.

_CLANG!_

The spoon Hermione had been holding fell onto the countertop, bouncing once. But of course, nobody took notice of that. Especially not when Hermione Granger had flung herself at Draco Malfoy.

When you break up with somebody, you almost always go on a rebound relationship. Hermione needed a rebound relationship. Draco _was_ a rebound relationship.

"Granger –" Draco murmured against her lips in surprise.

"Call me Hermione," she said, tangling her fingers through his hair. It was so silky, so soft …

"Hermione –" Draco said, even more surprised than usual.

"Mm?" she asked as she pushed him against the wall of the kitchen, breathing heavily and she kissed him. Suddenly, she felt like doing nothing else but snogging him senseless; making him inane from all that kissing she was about to inflict.

Draco encountered a mental blank. All he could think about, all he could fathom, was that Hermione Granger was snogging him uncontrollably, skilfully, _voluntarily_, against the wall of her kitchen.

Her hands were pushing through his hair, messing it up. He didn't care. His hands were roaming against the small of her back. She didn't care. She was nibbling on his lip. She paused to let him nibble back. They both didn't care.

'This is _wrong_,' a small voice in Draco's head popped up. 'She's on the rebound, Draco. _Rebound_. She doesn't really mean to kiss you like there's no tomorrow. If you're anything of a gentleman, you'll stop this right now before she regrets it.'

Draco was dimly aware that Hermione had now stopped kissing him and was leaning her forehead against his, breathing heavily. Her eyes were closed, her hands roaming all over the collar of his shirt. She started pulling at the buttons.

Then again, who said that Draco Malfoy had to be a gentleman?

He heard her inhale deeply as her fingers momentarily stopped. "You smell nice," she said, lazily tugging at the buttons once more.

"Thank you, Grang - Hermione." Draco tried. It felt weird to call her by her first name. He closed his eyes when she pried open the second button. He didn't want to say it, he really didn't, but his stupid bloody conscience was nagging him.

He was surprised he even had a conscience.

"Hermione," Draco groaned, frustrated at how the extremely small part of him that was decent had taken over.

Her fingers worked quicker. Past the fourth button. She tilted her head upwards and started kissing him again. He tasted like ice cream … God.

"Hermione –" Draco tried again. She tasted like ice cream. Dear Merlin.

"Shut up," she said as her mouth started moving frantically.

'OK, then,' he thought.

But he might as well have shaken his head crazily – he couldn't let her do this! It was a bloody rebound relationship; and he knew that when she realised what she had started, he would have to pick up the pieces.

All the buttons were finished. She was trying to ease the shirt off his shoulders when –

"No." Draco said firmly, pushing her back lightly. He rolled his shoulders forward, his shirt closing inward slightly.

"No?" Hermione asked, surprised. She then smiled and went in for another kiss on the lips. Draco thought that it wasn't fair how good she was at pulling him back in the ignoring of his conscience. He pushed her away.

"No." he repeated. He was going to regret this … "You're going to regret this."

"No, I'm not," Hermione said, giggling, as she leant forward. Her hands were trying to get the blasted shirt off …

"Are you drunk?" Draco suddenly asked; Hermione wouldn't normally act like this. She was prim, proper, composed … not some ditzy little girl who acted like she had never kissed anybody with serious intent before.

"No, I am not drunk!" Suddenly, normal Hermione came back, and Draco seemed relieved. "God, Malfoy!"

"What?" he asked, eyebrows knitted, shirt still open.

"Just … God!" she exclaimed angrily. He continued to look perplexed. "You act like you want me; what with all that ridiculous kissing – and then you just _reject_ my advances? What are you – _gay_?"

"I am _not_ g-"

"You might as well be!" Hermione snapped, snapping the lid back onto the ice cream container which she had abandoned. "Either you're confused about your sexuality or you don't have enough brain power _to_ be confused about your sexuality."

There was a short humming sound as she opened the freezer door and deposited the ice cream.

"I am _not_ confused about sexuality." Draco said, shirt _still_ open.

"So you're going for the latter?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms angrily.

"You were embarking on a _rebound_ relationship, Granger!" Draco pointed out. Hermione noted that it was now back to last-name references. "Rebounds are never good."

"Then what the hell is your love life supposed to be?" Hermione spat.

"I don't rebound. I have short acquaintances." Draco quipped. Hermione could have punched him – again- for that ridiculously superior tone he had in his voice. She wanted to knock him off his high horse.

Hermione made a loud, angry noise from the back of her throat and stormed off to her bedroom.

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He was watching her again.

This time around, Draco found himself seated in that nice cream coloured chair. _And_ he had his nice, comfortable instead of that bathrobe to keep him warm.

Tonight, Hermione was sleeping on her back, her hair splayed messily around her. Her features seemed more relaxed. Her eyebrows were knitted, but not as much as the night before. Her nose was smooth. Her mouth was red; a vivid, bitten red.

Merlin, he didn't want to admit it. He didn't even want to _think_ about it. But he had to – Draco had learnt that confronting all the things on the inside made you understand yourself better, and therefore you could use yourself to your advantage more when dealing with people or situations.

So he had to face it – Hermione was a damn good kisser. He snorted; she probably read a book about the subject when she was at school and kept the information locked away in her mind, waiting for it to come into good use one day.

He had to confront it – he had enjoyed it. Who _wouldn't_ like getting their brains snogged out by a person who really knew how to use that mouth?

He had to accept it – if his stupid conscience hadn't gotten to him, he probably would have let her do whatever she wanted, and consequently let her self-destruct.

Damn it – he should have let her self-destruct.

Draco continued staring at her. Just because the woman knew how to kiss, and had exhibited that fact rather well previously, it did not mean that he was in love with her.

_Love_. Draco snorted at the mere concept.

What Hermione exhibited before was lust – something usually mistaken for the elusive emotion, which is given by some, received from others, and confusing for all.

Lust and the thought of being lonely for the rest of her life (probably one of the most common triggers for a rebound relationship) drove her to Draco. Then reality set in, she called him gay, he was semi-naked and confused, and had ultimately left her angry.

The world sucked when it wanted to.

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**Author's Note:** It's over! The chapter is over! You can rejoice because you will no longer have to strain your eyes in order to read page after page of story!

Apologies for the lateness of the chapter – homework, depravity of internet, depravity of fast computer and many, many, _many_ screenings of _House MD_ and _Law and Order: Criminal Intent_ have caused me to slightly abandon the story. But hey – this chapter was 23 pages long. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Thankies to all the wonderful people who reviewed Chapter 11 – you will receive your imaginary gift of 10kg of Swiss chocolate, as well as some strawberries and some other fruits, _plus _fondue (of the cheese or chocolate variety) to dip your fruit in it.

Collect your present if you're: **HGDM lova, slykitten, dizzydragon, Hgbookworm, Nathifa Femi, BIGHARRYFAN, Mordibly Ori, Jenna** (who gets two!)**, Hazelocean, Kidden, Grace, blonde-brain, Christi-Lynn, texangal1991, mea, XxInstanityxX, DracozGirl, Tacroy, .Aurorablu., princess-amelia, kerry, macbeaner, degrassichick, Megan, F-chan1, mAI, alien726, c-orruptiion, OphidiaHerba, Steelo **(who gets two!)**, ashira-BoOkLoVeR, Leather and Libraries, natyslacks, aphrodite, xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo, kawaiitie, unknown, Fiona McKinnon, TheFlameFaerie, SlytherinHotness, Krazee-Reader, Dragon** (who gets three!)**, TheAnglesShadow, Alateriel567** (who gets two!)**, hermionebabe1, Mess531y, singingcowgirl, Lady Venya of the Isle, NitenGale, sliversun, skittlelove, F4nfic-F4n4tic, Sukimono Mizu, Michelle, LivingImpared, Ale, BakuraLover75, RavensWritingProphecies, Shannon, luvyou4ever, Fair Cruelty, punkprincess92, katherinep **(hi, Kat!)**, Shy-Lil-Dreamer, HarryPotterObsessed, Poseidon's Chickadee, Sunflower18, livetoeat06, Dark Blossem **and **MoonyMeg.**

Thank you again!

Okies, following the suggestion of one of my reviewers, the next present I will give will not be chocolate! For clicking that wonderful little button and reviewing, you shall all receive GOURMET JELLY BEANS! Yay – everybody likes gourmet jelly beans!

The apples and pears argument in Chapter 11 wasn't actually an argument about apples and pears – more like purebloods and muggleborns. Apologies if I sound patronising or if you already knew that …

Until the next chapter of wonderful angsty goodness featuring sexy bad boy Draco, demure and confused Hermione, and a whole lot of other … stuff.

Your devoted fanfiction writer,

—Look at Moiye, Ploise!—


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